Reincarnation
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: Five years have passed since Alex Rider disappeared, but now MI6 need him back. With a new life as a heartless assassin, can anyone save him from himself? SEQUEL to Shadow of a Doubt.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: So, I was supposed to have work today, but I didn't. They cancelled my shift. I was a little irritated that they didn't call and tell me, but it suited me just fine. I went back home and went to bed, in an attempt to soothe sore muscles from a day helping at my brother's work yesterday. He's a porter at an auction house. I spent most of the day on my knees – get your minds out of the gutter! - in a boiling hot auction room passing silver and jewellery from cabinets to viewers. The rest of the time I was moving furniture. When you're 5'2" and half the stuff is both bigger and heavier than you, that's no joke! Anyway, I've forgotten where I was going with this…**_

_**Oh yeah! Anyway, a side effect of me not having work was me having spare time to a) recuperate and b) post this! Yay! So yeah, in celebration I'm starting a new story!**_

_****IMPORTANT PLEASE READ****_

_**Several important things to announce here.**_

_**First off this is a SEQUEL to both Past of Shadows and Shadow of a Doubt. It's not essential for you to read it, the plot doesn't carry on. However, there will be occasional references to things that happened in the two fics and the characterisation carries on. There was a LOT of character development in them. Plus, you need to meet Yuri! Who, I'm afraid to say, doesn't appear in this fic, but does in the sequel! (Which, yes, is already planned. And partly written… I might be getting ahead of myself…)**_

_**Secondly, THIS IS SLASH. As are the previous two fics. Well, there are hints of slash in this one, but not a full out slash-tastic relationship… as of yet. This might change later on… but not definitely.**_

_**Thirdly… DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**Fourthly and Finally, WARNINGS: implied assassination and torture. (yeah, this isn't going to be as bad as PoS or SoaD. Think this is a good thing… although, if you do feel like reading a dark fic, keep an eye out for Dulce et Decorum est, the sequel to Pro Patria Mori. And yes, that was a shameless plug.)**_

_**And now, I have talked… **_**typed**_** myself to speechlessness, onto the chapter!**_

-o-O-o-

"Agent Harris," greeted Mrs Jones.

Tom nodded politely. He had been working here for a year now, having joined the army at seventeen. He had been inducted into the SAS aged nineteen, one of the youngest recruits in history and he was proud to be there. Aged twenty, he joined MI6, having been head hunted for the job.

He wasn't their best agent, he knew and accepted that, but he w_as _reasonably good at his job. He often wondered what Alex would think if he could see him now. Of course, it had been Alex who had sparked Tom's dream of being an agent rather than a footballer; Alex had been the reason he had joined the army.

He had thought, maybe, when he joined the SAS that he might run into Alex and again when he joined MI6, but he hadn't and as time went by he forgot all about Alex. Well, not _forgot_, but ceased to associate his work with him. He stopped expecting to run into him.

He snapped his focus back to the present as his boss started to speak again.

"We have a very... delicate situation at hand in Russia. We need our best agent on the case."

Tom raised his eyebrows. He wasn't their best agent, why was he being told this? He knew by now that MI6 worked on a need to know basis and even then it was like trying to get blood from a stone.

"In fact, we need better than our best agent," admitted Mrs Jones. "We've assigned five agents to this case so far – only one of them infiltrated successfully and he turned up dead within the week. However, there is someone that we know of who could almost certainly complete this mission. The problem is that he disappeared about five years ago and we haven't heard from him since. We spent a year with every agent we could spare looking for him, but no-one could find him. He is, after all, the best." She paused and looked speculatively at the files in front of her for a moment.

"We believe he is now a contract killer by profession and he is rumoured to still have never failed a mission though we can never say with any certainty that any specific target was assassinated by him. He is unique, however, in his stance against the large companies. He has, apparently, been responsible for the fall of the Triads, of Scorpia and several other criminal organisations. Admittedly, many of them tried to take him out first as he was taking their business."

"I'm sorry," interrupted Tom. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"We need you to find him."

"Why me?" asked Tom bluntly. "It sounds as if you would need someone with more experience."

"Unlike our other agents, those we have sent to find him in the past or those who stumbled across him by accident, we feel that he would be reluctant to kill you."

Tom took a deep breath. He _really_ didn't want to know the answer to the next question, but he had to ask, though he thought that he had guessed the answer.

"Why?"

"His name is Alex Rider," said Mrs Jones, pushing a photo across the table. "I believe that you used to be friends."

-o-O-o-

"Thanatos," greeted the man, and Alex smiled coldly.

He had many, many pseudonyms – one for every possible need – but Thanatos was perhaps his favourite. The boy-faced, implacable god of death. The one who couldn't be cheated, merely delayed. Not cruel, just inevitable. People who understood the significance said that it suited him.

"You completed the last job well. I know of no one who could have done it more efficiently."

Alex didn't respond to the praise. It was only fact, after all. He was the best.

"You said you had another job to offer me," he said, calmly.

"Yes..." said the man, obviously uncomfortable with 'Thanatos' cutting through his polite small talk.

"Who is the target?" asked Alex.

The man handed him a picture.

Alex looked at it. The man had a military background, that much was obvious from the way he stood, but the awkward angle of his arm and his predominately grey hair suggested that he had been retired for several years now, probably due to an injury.

"We will pay you-"

"The same as for the last job," interrupted Alex. "My fee is non-negotiable."

The man hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. We expected no less. Your money is in the briefcase on the table."

Alex crossed to it silently and briefly inspected the briefcase. Finding no obvious wires or anything that would suggest it was booby trapped, he opened it. There were bundles of fifty pound notes inside. Quickly, he counted one bundle, and then counted the bundles. After a moment he nodded. He would count it later with more care, but for now it would do. Anyone, who tried to trick or double cross him, would wind up dead, after all.

"It will be done within the week," he said, then turned to leave, taking the briefcase with him.

Two days later the man was dead, a bullet between his eyes.

-o-O-o-

Two weeks later, Alex once again stood across from the man who had ordered the killing.

"Congratulations," said the man. Alex didn't know his name. He didn't really care. Anyone who was hoping to gain his services would come with his fee in cash, a picture of the target and details of where he could be found. Anyone who didn't, didn't obtain what they had been seeking.

"You have now proved yourself the best assassin of this day and age. We have but one more task for you."

Alex simply looked at him, until the man shifted uncomfortably. "We do not actually know what he looks like. We only know his name... Orion."

Orion... the hunter. Another one of his aliases.

"So _that's _who you are," murmured Alex. He had been hired to kill many of their members by another group seeking to perform a hostile takeover – not that there was any other kind in the criminal underworld.

He sighed and turned to the man, pulling a knife from a sheath on his thigh. It was carbon-fibre. Just as sharp as a normal knife, but wouldn't set off the metal detector he was forced to go through to meet these people.

The man turned white.

"You're going to come with me," instructed Alex. "You are not going to scream. You are not going to attempt to alert anyone that anything is wrong. If I so much as suspect... you will be dead and I will have gone before anyone has understood what you mean."

The man swallowed, and nodded. He didn't need proof of what the assassin could do. The cold certainty in his voice let him know that he hadn't even _begun_ to test his abilities.

The knife vanished, hidden up the sleeve of the jacket that Alex was wearing. He could draw it, throw it and vanish before the body hit the floor, if it was necessary.

A week after that, several members of the group disappeared. The remains of the man who had been in contact with Thanatos was found sometime after, brutally tortured and mutilated. There was a message attached:

_Do not try to hunt the hunter. You will fail._

It was signed, Orion.

-o-O-o-

Alex sighed and glanced in the window at an angle in front of him before passing it without stopping. He was being followed.

Frowning, he changed direction, moving off the main street onto a side road, though it was still busy. He needed a clearer picture of his footpad before he decided on his course of action. He preferred to not kill unless paid, but he would if he had to, if it was a secret service agent. Otherwise, he would lose his stalker, vanishing into the crowds that always thickened around this time of year.

The business with that last group had been messy - too messy for his liking, if he was honest - but it had also been necessary. He wouldn't be surprised if this footpad was simply linked to that. They could find no proof, but he hadn't covered his tracks as well as he had liked. It had been necessary to prove it was Orion, and not Thanatos or Crosshairs or another of his pseudonyms.

And definitely not Alex Rider. A single piece of evidence could sign his death warrant.

He half turned, after he deliberately stumbled into someone, to apologise profusely and caught sight of his footpad clearly for the first time. He was short, with black hair and pale skin. Alex quickly turned back and carried on walking.

He had recognised the man. There was no doubt, despite six years age difference since he last saw him. Now Alex simply had two questions: Why was Tom following him, and how had he found him?

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated and I'll do my best to reply to them all. I'm going to aim to update this once a week. Which I guess will be on Thursdays, but I'm not promising anything, so don't hold me to it. Anyways, yeah. Reviews are love. Plus, I really want to know what you think of assassin!Alex…**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So I made the mistake of watching two Doctor who episodes last night right before I went to sleep, which sparked of a very weird dream with miniature kittens, Alice returning from her holiday in Wonderland and bringing gifts, strawberry macaroons, and the creepy gas-mask people from The Empty Child coming to turn me into one of them. Actually, by the end of the dream we'd managed to work out a political treaty with them, and they became our overlords but couldn't harm any of us and things would be left exactly as they were. Apart from people having to say mummy instead of mother or mum or any variant thereof. Anyway, this treaty obviously didn't work as at the end of the dream, they were coming to tie me up with red yarn (seriously I don't know) and to do this they would obviously have to touch me which would turn me into one of them. I then woke up to see a figure at the end of my bed, exactly where one of the gas-mask people had been. Nearly screamed out loud!**_

_**Of course, when I woke up a bit more, I realised it wasn't a creepy gas-mask person coming to kill me, but instead the dress-makers doll I was using last night. It was… an interesting way to start the day. Of course, I'm becoming more and more convinced that I'm going insane. At least if my dreams are anything to go by…**_

_**Anyway, enough of that. Onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise!**_

-o-O-o-

Tom had been surprised – very surprised – when after months of fruitless searching he had found Alex by chance, when taking a week's break to visit his brother in Amsterdam. In fact he had almost run into him, and it was only the chance commotion of a pickpocket a few metres away that had prevented Alex from noticing him. That had been about half an hour ago.

Tom was fairly sure that Alex had seen him by now and, with no apparent effort or deliberation, he was becoming harder and harder to track. Tom found himself having to keep closer in order not to lose him. He knew this was a risk but he wasn't about to lose Alex now, not after spending so long looking for him.

Suddenly, Alex turned and entered a large hotel. It was one of the best in the city, with a reputation for being discreet. One night alone cost about a month's pay for a normal person. Tom paused outside and settled down to wait. He wasn't about to try and confront Alex on his own turf.

-o-O-o-

Alex sat patiently in the lobby. He knew that Tom would be wary of coming in – the man as an agent now, after all – but patience had never been his strong point. In the end, it took about an hour. Alex was impressed; he hadn't thought Tom would last that long.

He rose as the black-haired man crossed to the reception desk. Over the relative quiet of the lobby, he heard every word clearly.

"Excuse me, miss? I am looking for a friend of mine. I thought I saw him come in here. Blond hair, fairly tall, brown eyes... have you seen him?"

Alex smiled, predatorily. Tom was playing right into his hands.

"Tom!" he called, widening his smile into a welcoming grin. "What are you doing here?" He gestured expansively, the image of a surprised man greeting his welcomed friend.

Alex saw Tom tense slightly, his expression tighten fractionally, but no one else would have seen it.

"Oh, you know, I was just in the area," said Tom, smiling weakly. "I saw you come in here, so thought I would come and say hi."

"It's wonderful to see you. It's been too long."

Tom had sensed the trap by now, his eyes flicking nervously to the exits.

"You absolutely must come to my room so that we can catch up," said Alex.

"Oh, I can't, really," protested Tom, "I would hate to intrude-"

"Nonsense!" said Alex. This really was rather fun, he mused. He'd never had reason to attract as much attention as possible, and it really was more amusing than the alternatives.

"I insist," he continued.

"I'm sorry, but I am meeting someone," said Tom, feigning regret. "Maybe we could-"

"Oh, who? You absolutely must call them," said Alex. "Invite them over here. I'll take you both out to dinner after we have caught up."

He threw an expressive arm around Tom's shoulder and wheeled him around.

"Keep walking and keep silent," he whispered to his one-time friend.

Tom swallowed and nodded as he felt the prick of a knife through his jacket. He should have waited outside.

-o-O-o-

Once in the privacy of his room, Alex pounced, dragging Tom's arms above his head and searching him thoroughly. He didn't find anything beyond his mobile phone and wallet, and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. Admittedly, he didn't have many weapons on him, but the one he did have was state of the art, completed just last week by Smithers.

"Why are you here?" snarled Alex. He obviously wasn't too happy about being followed.

"I was visiting Jerry," said Tom, calmly.

"Don't try that on me," said Alex, his eyes narrowing. "I know you're an agent, now."

A knife appeared in his hand and Tom swallowed.

"Honestly, I got in two days ago from London. Yes, I'm an agent, but I wasn't looking for you when I came here."

Alex sighed and walked across the living area of the suit to sink into a chair by the window. He gestured to the one opposite it and Tom complied.

"I had to be sure," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry; I hope you understand."

"The life of a contract killer must be a nervous one," stated Tom calmly.

"Believe me," said Alex wryly, "No more than that of a spy."

Tom nodded thoughtfully and fell silent. It was undeniably awkward. Two men, friends – best friends, even – until the age of sixteen when one vanished without explanation. Now they saw one another again on opposite sides, both knowing they were supposed to either kill or capture the other, and yet both unwilling to do so.

"Why?" asked Tom eventually.

Alex shrugged. "MI6 were turning against me anyway. I thought I had better get out while I still could."

"You know, for all that you are infamous as an assassin in MI6 - and the SAS, as it happens – we never hear of anyone you kill."

"I guess that is just proof of how good I am," said Alex, smiling slightly. "They can never prove it."

Tom sighed. "I'm sorry, Alex."

Alex turned a startled face towards him, but he was too slow. Tom had already jabbed his thumb nail into his neck, releasing the tranquiliser stored there into his bloodstream.

Tom sighed and crossed the room to reach his mobile. He had better call in back up.

-o-O-o-

Alex didn't groan as he came around, despite his pounding headache. Nor did he move, or tense. To look at him, you would think he was still unconscious.

Now was not the time for self-berating. He simply had to learn that overconfidence killed and move on. With eyes closed, he started cataloguing every detail he could. He was tied to some sort of table, probably metal from the feel of it against his cheek. He could feel thick leather restraints around his wrists and ankles.

He was wearing trousers, but could tell by the fabric that they weren't his. They felt suspiciously like SAS combat trousers. His top had gone as had the various gun and knife holders that were constantly wrapped around his body. His feet were bare, and the knife strapped to his ankle had also gone.

There was a slight itch on the side of his neck, but no pain anywhere really, apart from the usual stiffness caused from being tied up while unconscious.

He twitched his index finger and felt a wave of satisfaction. They hadn't found _that_, at least.

There was someone breathing quietly off to his right. Even enough to show the person wasn't nervous about their prisoner, but not deep enough for them to be asleep. He was pretty sure he recognised it as Tom's, but he could be imagining it - after seven years it would surely have changed.

He opened his eyes. He hadn't been imagining it – it was Tom. He had yet to notice that Alex was awake though, picking at his nails, obviously bored.

"Hello, Tom," said Alex, coldly.

Tom was obviously startled and looked up, then smiled sadly. "Hi, Alex."

"You were in Amsterdam looking for me," said Alex. He was rather upset about that. Normally he could tell if someone as lying.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Actually, no. I _was _visiting Jerry. I'd simply been looking for you without success for the past three months. It was pure chance that I saw you."

"I should have knocked you out as soon as I saw you," said Alex. "I just-"

"You just thought that you owed me more than that? Yeah, me too. I didn't want to tranq you, but it was part of the job."

Alex laughed bitterly. "I underestimated you."

Tom smiled.

"If I hadn't," said Alex. "You'd already be dead."

Tom stopped smiling.

"That's why they sent you, isn't it?" asked Alex, eventually. "They thought it would be easier for you because we had once been friends."

"They were right," said Tom.

"Apparently," said Alex, coldly. "Where am I?"

Tom sighed. "I can't tell you that."

"Why am I here?"

"I don't know."

Alex sighed.

"Tom?" he said eventually.

"Yeah, Al?"

"I'm sorry."

Tom didn't even have time to stand up before Alex's fist connected with his head.

Alex sighed again and began to work on the lock on his left wrist. While distracting Tom by talking to him, he had removed a narrow piece of metal, about the size and malleability of an unwound paperclip from its hiding place – under the skin of his index finger on his right hand. It had taken careful placing for him to be able to remove it one handed, but it was the perfect lock pick in a tight spot. Already the cuff on his left wrist had fallen away.

He sat up and began to work on the cuffs around his feet. When he was done he stood up and carefully stretched, removing the residual stiffness from his muscles with practised ease, then turned to study the door. It was heavy and, from the looks of it, made entirely of metal. He frowned at the electronic lock. It would be impossible to pick, but Harris had had to have a way to get out, right?

He turned to his one-time friend and quickly searched him, sticking Tom's gun in his waist band and only taking a moment or two more to find the key card in his pocket.

He slipped it into the lock and let himself out.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, review and tell me what you think?**_

_**Oh, by the way. Two things. One, there is still a poll on my account on whether I should upload a sequel to dangerous, and two, there are these fantastic things being organised called the "2011 Alex Rider Fan Fiction awards". Nominations for two categories are now open - The Best Completed Multichapter and The Best Completed Multichapter (Long). The long category is for fics over 50k words, and the other one is for fics less than that. The nomination threads are found in the forum called "The Royal & General Bank". Go and suggest your favourites, I guess? **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: So, I meant to update this yesterday, but kind of didn't… sorry about that. Ah well, better late than never, right?**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

It didn't take him long to find out where he was. Brecon Beacons had barely changed in all the time he had been away. It still had the same squat huts for the soldiers to sleep in and the same feel of neglect that seemed to be present wherever people spent a substantial amount of time, but didn't actually live.

No-one noticed him at first. He lurked in the shadow of the doorway, eyeing the soldiers. There were about ten men scattered around, obviously guarding the door and trying to be subtle about it. He had perhaps six bullets in his gun, assuming the magazine was full. They each had a gun, almost certainly fully loaded.

But, he had surprise on his side and MI6 obviously wanted him for something or he would be dead already. There would be no point in killing him yet. Pensively, he unloaded the gun and inspected the magazine.

Instead of bullets were six miniature darts. He guessed they were tranquilisers. So, head shots were probably out of the question. He was sure that the darts would not survive impact with a skull. He should aim for the neck, as they would no doubt be wearing body armour.

Time to find out how good he was.

The gun was virtually silent and he had off three shots before they realised what was happening. Only seven more to go.

-o-O-o-

Wolf cursed as three of his team dropped to the ground. He could only hope that the "high security" prisoner had taken the gun from the agent guarding him. Then he would be armed with the same tranquilisers as they were.

He let off two shots as he began racing forward. Two more of his men were on the ground and Wolf continued firing. All too soon he was out of ammo and he tossed his gun aside as he came within reach of the younger man. Even as he watched, Eagle was knocked unconscious.

He struck out with a fist, but it was blocked. He blocked a kick, then ducked to dodge the fist aimed at his temple, only to be knocked to the floor by his attackers elbow. He growled with frustration and pushed himself back to his feet as someone else engaged the young man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs Jones come out of the Sergeant's office. There was a small figure at her side.

"Alex!"

-o-O-o-

Alex froze as he heard a familiar voice call his name. The soldiers fighting him stopped as he turned from them.

"Mrs Jones," he said warily as he inspected her. Her hair was longer now, and tied back tightly into a bun. There were a few more creases at the side of her eyes and her patented black suit had been replaced by a dark grey trouser suit.

And a short figure was walking beside her. Alex's eyes narrowed. It was a teenager.

He walked towards her, icy fury obvious in every step.

"Who is this?" spat Alex.

"This is Matt Hargreaves."

"And when he's outlived his usefulness are you going to try and kill him too?"

"Be reasonable, Alex. We never tried to kill you until you became an assassin."

Their argument was interrupted by a voice from behind Alex.

"Alex?" said Wolf, disbelievingly.

"James," said Alex wearily, ignoring both the man's surprise and his own pain at the meeting. He turned to the kid. "I'm going to give you the same advice I was given: Go home. Go back to school. And next time they ask you," he paused and looked into the kid's eyes, "say no. This world is no place for children."

The kid raised his chin defiantly. "If it's such good advice, why didn't you take it?" he asked.

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I was never given a choice."

He noted a touch of surprise in the kid's face. "I assume they aren't blackmailing _you_?" he said, calmly.

"I am proud to serve my country!" exclaimed Matt.

If Alex hadn't had seven years of controlling himself utterly, his mouth would have dropped open in surprise.

"Looks as if you've managed to find a goddamned patriot," he sneered, turning back to Mrs Jones. "Christ, does the kid have no brains? He'll get himself killed."

"Hey!" protested the kid.

"Shut up," snapped Alex and the kid, not surprisingly, fell silent.

He turned back to Jones. "What is this all about, anyway?"

"There is a school in Moscow, Russia. They are pulling children off the streets and giving them an education. The graduates come out, get good work for a year or two, and then disappear. We can get almost no information from inside the school and we want to know why."

Alex looked at her. "No. I'm not doing it. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to leave."

Suddenly the soldiers behind him were reloading weapons and getting ready to fight him again. Alex threw them a pitying look. "Do you really think you can stop me?" he asked.

"Later, Jones," he said, and walked passed her towards the camp exit.

"Alex. Matt _is _going. He can either go under your guidance, or we can send him in solo."

Alex stiffened, and turned.

"You haven't changed, have you? You'll still do anything to get your way. Didn't Blunt getting _arrested _teach you anything? Well, let me tell you something, Jones," he paused and crossed to her, whispering close to her ear, "the greater good can only take you so far."

He pulled back. "If I do it, I want something in return."

"Of course," said Mrs Jones. "What is your normal fee?"

Alex let off a harsh bark of laughter. "You can keep your money. I have more than enough of my own."

"Then what?" asked Mrs Jones.

"A pardon. For all crimes I have committed – known or unknown – before this date."

"That's preposterous!" exclaimed a soldier standing nearby. "She isn't just going to let a murderer like you _go._"

"She is if she wants my co-operation," stated Alex calmly, his eyes never leaving the woman.

"Deal," said Mrs Jones abruptly, "as long as you complete the mission."

"Ok, I'll do it," Mrs Jones smiled and he held up a hand to cut off her comment, "but – _but! _– if you seek to use anyone, child or otherwise, against me again, I will kill them myself."

The kid paled and the smile practically fell off Jones' face.

"I take it you don't hold to your previous ideals."

His eyes flashed with suppressed rage as he spoke, firmly.

"If I don't, then you have only yourself to blame."

-o-O-o-

Alex ducked out of the barracks he was sharing with Wolf, Eagle and another SAS soldier he didn't know. He would be staying in Brecon Beacons for two weeks while the kid did some training. The kid would then move to the streets of Moscow, and Alex would begin to use his contacts to get a position as a teacher at the school. He still wasn't quite sure why he didn't just infiltrate the school now. He guessed that Jones wanted someone to keep an eye on him for a bit. Apparently his word wasn't enough for her.

He walked silently through the camp, easily avoiding notice of the off-duty soldiers, fingering the cigarette packet he had lifted from Eagle. He was heading towards a hillside that he had favoured on his first visit here. It over looked the lake, and completely obscured the camp from view. When he crested the rise, he was surprised to see the kid was there before him.

He sank to the ground a few feet from the kid and rested his hands on his knees. After a moment or two, he drew the cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

The light glowed orange in the semi dark, just illuminating his cold eyes. The kid looked at him.

"What?" he asked, impatiently.

"You were a spy at fourteen and a contract killer at sixteen," said the boy.

Alex grunted. "Your point?"

"At what point did you decide that it would be a good idea to take up a habit that is not only addictive, but bad for you as well?"

Alex laughed, hollowly. "The chances of me getting lung cancer are miniscule. I'm likely to die before it becomes a problem."

The kid simply looked at him again. "What?" spat Alex, suddenly annoyed at being judged by this mini wannabe. "You want one or something?"

"I'm fifteen," said the boy reproachfully.

"Don't remind me," muttered Alex blackly.

The boy continued to look at him.

"Fine!" exclaimed Alex, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and grinding it in the dirt. "Fine! It's out. Are you happy now?"

The kid just shrugged and stood up. Alex glared at his retreating back.

"Shit," he cursed, falling backwards onto the grass. Stupid fucking MI6. This was all their fault.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me? Alex and Wolf finally came face to face! … don't worry, there will be more on them before the end of this series. I have warned you that this story isn't particularly heavy on Wolf/Alex, right? That comes up in the next in the series…**_

_**Anyways, what is your opinion on Matt? :D Ok, yeah, I know, normally I quit reading another-teen-spy fics pretty much as soon as the teen makes an appearance, but give me a chance. I promise you that Matt isn't a Mary-Sue. He's a plot device. (I hate to break it to you, but all my OCs are plot devices… Even Yuri was, despite how much I loved the kid. Hence why you can never rely on my fondness for them to keep them alive… sorry!)**_

**_EDIT: Oh, yeah. Some of you might recognise the name Matt Hargreaves. That would be because it's actually a name used by Amitai in Sub Zero... I assure you I didn't intentionally steal it, I just accidentally used it because it must have stuck in my mind or something. I didn't realise that it was already in use until I got to writing about chapter 9, so yeah. By that point the name had stuck. I assure you, though, that despite the same name, they're completely different characters!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: So, I went to the BEST party last night. It was Moulin Rouge themed, with free champagne, fireworks and dancing girls (NOT the stripper variety. Get your minds out of the gutter.) I might have possibly woken up thinking that there was a small furry animal turning somersaults in my stomach, but three glasses of water and a piece of toast took care of that. :)**_

_**Now, onto more important news, despite my recent lack of updates I'M NOT DEAD! I know, shocking isn't it? In fact, the chapter has been ready to go since I last updated, I just haven't had the time to post it! The main culprit in this is probably the four days I spent at LEEDS FESTIVAL. :D :D :D. Yes, the three grinning faces were necessary because it was AMAZING. I saw Rise Against, pretty much my current favourite band, and I saw MCR and Elbow and Muse and 30 Seconds to Mars and Panic at the Disco (who I was about 3 metres away from! :D :D) and why did no one tell me how awesome B.M.T.H are? And I'm getting tickets to see The Blackout at Uni, assuming they haven't sold out, and if I have money left, Rise Against are going on tour and HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?**_

_**Sorry, hyper-fit over. **_

_**Fun Fact: That last scene with Matt and Alex, with the cigarettes has been sitting in a notebook of mine since before I finished posting Perfectly Normal. Ok, so it wasn't that fun. So sue me.**_

_**Anyways, I'm off to go and get bacon out of the oven. (I'm having a bacon butty. Yay! :D) I'll leave you to read the chapter!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

He stared up at the stars, surprised that he could actually see them. Wales was hardly renowned for its clear skies after all. But right now, the skies were clear and dark. He'd never been given to idle speculation, but something about them made him wonder if somewhere up there, there was someone else lying down and looking up at the stars. Maybe, if there was, there was someone with a life even more fucked up than his. Why did _Wolf_ have to be here? Wasn't being captured by the SAS bad enough already?

His self-pity was interrupted by a voice from behind him.

"You stole Eagle's cigarettes," said Wolf.

"It wasn't as if they were going to just let me wander out to buy my own, was it?" said Alex, his mouth quirking in amusement at the thought. He knew 'I'm going out for a smoke' could get you out passed a lot of security measures, but somehow he thought the SAS might be an exception.

"Guess not," muttered Wolf, sitting down next to him.

Alex tried not to think of the last time they had been side by side. Right before MI5 came to arrest him. They'd been playing rummy in bed, with copious amounts of coffee and kisses. Firmly, Alex pushed the thought out of his head and returned to studying the stars.

"So are you thinking of quitting?" asked Wolf, after a moment.

Alex blinked in surprise and looked over at him. "I'm assuming you mean my job?"

He ignored Wolf's slight sneer at the word job – he guessed that an SAS soldier wouldn't view his career in that light, after all – and waited curtly for the soldier's nod before frowning slightly.

"I hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "What makes you ask?"

"Well, there's no point asking for a pardon if you just go out and commit more crimes, is there?" Wolf pointed out.

"Guess not," admitted Alex. "Although this will remove all the crimes they know about. It'd be nice not being a wanted man in my own country."

"Why would you still do it?" asked Wolf. "You have money. You aren't on the run."

Alex shrugged.

"Tell me," demanded Wolf, angrily.

"I don't have an answer, alright!" spat Alex. "It's all I've ever known."

"Don't give me that _bull_," snarled Wolf. "You weren't always a killer."

"Do you really think MI6 is so fucking _different?_" shouted Alex. "You think they don't kill people? Don't send agents on assassinations? God, you're delusional."

He stood up and walked away, refusing to look back at Wolf even when he called his name. He had nothing to say to the soldier.

-o-O-o-

The first few days were awful. The new recruits avoided him like the plague and the rest of them seemed to think that Alex needed to be taught a lesson. He got into more fights in the first day than he had in the last seven years. There was one plus point: at least they weren't torturing the kid.

It all came to a head three days in. Alex was in the mess hall, sitting alone as he had for every meal so far. He picked up three heavy sets of footsteps heading towards him, but just carried on eating, unconcerned. When the three soldiers stopped in front of him, he paused, and looked up.

"Do you mind?" he said, acidly. "It's rather off putting to have people watching you eat."

"You put our teammate in the infirmary," said one of them loudly. The silence spread like ripples in a pond and every pair of eyes focused on the scene playing out in front of them.

Alex thought he remembered the guy they were talking about. He had picked a fight with Alex yesterday. Alex hadn't hurt him too much; he should be out of the infirmary later today.

He shrugged. "He shouldn't have tried to pick a fight with me then."

If anything, this seemed to enrage them further.

"You think you can come in here and act like you are better than everyone else?" hissed the soldier. "You're scum. You're nothing but a common murderer."

"Oh, come on," said Alex, a wry smile crossing his face. "Be fair. I am hardly a 'common murderer'. I get paid very well for my job, thank you."

"Rider," said a harsh voice behind them. Alex turned around to see Wolf glaring at him. "Stop provoking them."

Alex sighed and shut up. He knew it had been years, but re-meeting Wolf had stirred up feelings that he thought he was over. He just wanted to avoid the man and get out of here. That conversation on the hill had been bad enough.

He picked up his tray and dumped his virtually untouched meal into the bin. He realised the three men had followed him, but was determined to ignore them.

"You know," said the first man, "I never believed the rumours about you and Gregorovich. But you're such a coward I guess you must just have been his little whore."

Alex stiffened and slowly turned around. "Say that again," he said, his voice low and threatening.

"I said," said the man, stepping forward, "that you were his little _whore_."

Alex hit him.

-o-O-o-

He groaned. Every part of him ached. It had been inevitable that he would lose, really. He may be good, but he was only human and up against an entire mess hall of SAS soldiers. Something cold and wet was wiped gently down his cheek.

Reluctantly, he cracked open an eyelid. The kid – Hargreaves – was sitting next to him with a cloth and a bowl of water. He was back on the table he had been strapped to when he had first awoken here, he realised. Thankfully, he wasn't tied up this time.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the kid.

He looked uncomfortable for a second and muttered something.

"Sorry, what?" asked Alex. "I didn't catch that."

"They were just going to leave you there, until Wolf forced a couple of them to haul you back in here. I- Well, it's better for me if you're not injured, isn't it? I mean, we're going to be on a mission together."

Alex laughed. "Don't worry about me, kid. I've taken worse than this and lived."

"I have a name, you know," said the kid, reproachfully. "You don't have to keep calling me 'kid'."

"Sorry," said Alex. "You're a good kid, Matt."

He laughed as Matt scowled, and ruffled the teenager's hair.

Matt pouted and quickly ran a hand through his hair to undo the damage.

"Let me guess," said Alex, wryly. "Don't touch the hair?"

"Something like that," muttered Matt.

Alex swung his legs over the side of the table and sat up.

"Are we locked in here?" he asked. "Surely they wouldn't lock you up with an assassin like me?"

"Well, they did lock you in," said Matt, "but..."

"But what?" asked Alex, raising an eyebrow.

"I kind of pick pocketed the Sergeant... got the card. It's how I got in here in the first place."

Alex smirked coldly. "Maybe you won't immediately get yourself killed."

The kid smiled slightly at the backhanded compliment.

Alex stood up. "Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."

-o-O-o-

He left the kid at his barracks and wondered through the camp. He was bored of hanging around here, waiting for the go ahead from Jones when he could be on site already. He might even be able to sort it out before Matt got involved. He was a good kid; he didn't deserve to be dragged into this.

The first thing was to find his possessions that had been taken from him when Tom got the better of him. They would be somewhere in the camp, he was sure - most likely the safe in the Sergeant's office.

It was the middle of the night, now – he had obviously been out for a good few hours – and the Sergeant wouldn't be there.

It took him all of fifteen minutes to break into the office and open the safe, which would have been rather worrying if he was on their side. As it was, he didn't care.

All of his things were there, forming rather a large pile in the otherwise empty strongbox. He took his time replacing the holsters and when he was finished, there was a single, high-tech phone alone in the centre of the safe.

He picked it up and turned it on. It took a moment to scan his fingerprint and for the screen to light up, before it asked for a pin. He thought carefully. Which of his identities would be most appropriate for the task? Orion needed to lay low for a while, so not him. Maybe Thanatos?

Yeah, he'd just come out of a succession of short jobs; it would make sense he would want a change.

He typed in the appropriate four digit number and Thanatos' settings loaded up.

It buzzed silently as the pending messages from the last few days came in. A few requests for hits. Nothing that would take more than a couple of days. As Thanatos he tended to go for simple hits and that is exactly what these were. He flicked through them, accepting some, deciding against others for one reason or another.

After that, he flicked to contacts and scrolled down.

The phone rang a few times then answered. No-one spoke.

"G, it's Thanatos," said Alex, curtly.

"Than, my good man," said the man on the other end. "I was starting to think you had forgotten me."

"Not at all, G," said Thanatos. "Have you got anything for me?"

'G' was a middle man. Someone people from both sides of the contract could contact without the need to speak to each other directly.

"That depends, what are you looking for?"

"Actually, I was looking for something that would allow me to keep my head to the ground for a couple of years. I think I got tagged on my last hit."

A lie. He never got tagged, but other people did. G wouldn't think anything unusual about it.

"Your slipping, Than," said G, harshly.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. So, do you have anything?"

"Not yet. I'll let you know if I hear about anything."

"Thanks, G."

"No problem... wait, Thanatos?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you feel about teaching?"

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, review and tell me what you think?**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: So I'm really sorry about the delay in updates, but the last few weeks have been isnanely busy (again). I went to Italy, with my darling mother and had a fantastic time, although I have finally found a city I absolutely HATE in Naples. Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast is beautiful, but Naples is too full of people and far too full of cars and the two seem to be at war with each other. The Archaeological Museum is worth a visit, though. The stuff they've rescued from Pompei and Herculeneum is amazing. Actually, the sites themselves are as well, especially Heculeneum. They have wooden balconies and stairs and partitions left – it left me actually speechless!**_

_**Since coming back, I've had my time monopolised by brilliant housemates and my simply unbelievably amazing boyfriend who does all those things that you read about in books but never really expect to actually happen, like having roses and chocolates delivered to you, and writing love letters (which I might possibly have had under my pillow last night, but don't tell anyone…)**_

_**Fortunately for you, and very unfortunately for me, my boyfriend has abandoned me to go to London and ok, abandon might be a bit harsh but I'm not feeling overly charitable, given the fact that I can hear my very vocal housemate downstairs with her boyfriend.**_

_**Ok, I guess I can't be too mad at her. She just came up to apologise. Apparently she forgot I was here.**_

… _**Her boyfriend didn't, but she's already drawn blood, so I guess I'll let it go before I get gifted with anymore unwanted details.**_

_**Thankfully, headphones were invented for a reason other than to remove irritation for public transport users, so I only had to suffer the noise for as long as it took for me to find my iPod. (It was inside my duvet cover. I'm not even going to ask. Although, exactly who I'd ask is a very good question because if I don't know then I doubt anyone else would.)**_

_**Anyways, I'm pretty sure I'm babbling, and I'm going to blame the delicious chocolates my boyfriend gave me. :) So, onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Alex slipped into Matt's barracks, being careful not to wake the soldiers in there. He put a hand over the teen's mouth and shook him awake. The kid woke with a start and Alex motioned for him to follow him outside.

"I'm leaving, now. I'll be at the school by the time they drop you off in Moscow."

He paused, then sighed, wearily.

"I don't know what they're thinking. The streets are dangerous – you could die before you ever make it to the school. Look, if you ever get in real trouble..." he sighed and pulled his phone out. He twisted the corner and then twisted it back and it came off in his hands. "Press the button on the side of this. I can track the signal."

Matt took it and put it in his pocket.

"Don't let anyone see it. Don't tell anyone about it. And do NOT press it unless you are about to _die_, understand? If I find you have pressed it because you are cold, or hungry, or uncomfortable, you will regret it for the rest of your miserable life – however short that might be."

Matt paled slightly and nodded.

"Good. I'll see you in a few weeks, hopefully."

-o-O-o-

He slipped back into his own barracks and rooted under his bed. He was glad he didn't have to be quiet at the moment. Wolf, Eagle and the third soldier were out on a night training exercise apparently. He had been given an SAS uniform to wear while here, but his own clothes had been returned to him and now he slipped them on, exchanging the heavy combat boots for his own soft-soled version.

He stood and headed towards the door but stopped at a large hulking figure in the doorway. Wolf was back.

"Just bloody typical," he muttered.

"Where are you going?" asked Wolf, frowning.

"I'm leaving," said Alex. "I got a call from a contact. I have places to be."

"A hit?" sneered Eagle. The man had shown his intense dislike for Alex openly in the last few days, often commenting that they should have left him to rot with Gregorovich. He expressed disbelief that the 'mangy brat' had grown up to be an assassin anyway and said that his career was the coward's choice. Strangely enough, it was Wolf who more often than not made the man stop, a fact that only increased Alex's wariness of the older man.

"A job," said Alex warily. "I'm supposed to be arriving at a school in Moscow in three days. Something about teaching there..."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Does '6 know about this?" he asked.

"No. This way there is no way they can connect me with them. They'll give the kid some kind of communicating device, I'm sure. I'll pass any messages to him."

"It also means they won't have any direct control over you," said Wolf, shrewdly.

"That too."

"Good luck."

"Thanks," said Alex. He moved passed the soldiers, but stopped just on the other side of the door.

"Wolf…" he began, before cutting himself off. What was he really going to say? Pour out all his feelings to a man who was on the other side? Could he even put a name to them?

"Yeah?" asked Wolf, quickly turning.

"Never mind," said Alex, ducking his head and inwardly cursing himself. "Goodbye, I guess."

-o-O-o-

Moscow was cold. He really should have expected it and, to be fair, he had. But an SAS camp is not the best place to prepare for a trip abroad and so Alex's first stop after disembarking from the plane was a shop to pick up a jacket.

Only after that did he make his way slowly to the rendezvous, taking a decidedly twisted route to ensure that he wasn't followed.

"Thanatos?" said a shady looking man who had been lounging against the wall. "Christ, I knew you were young, but you're barely out of your teens! _You _are seriously the man I was sent to pick up?"

Alex didn't say anything, simply walking closer so the man could get a good look at him.

The man met his gaze for a moment then shifted uncomfortably.

"Right. Thanatos. Great. I have orders to bring you to the boss."

Alex nodded once and followed him. He already knew that the man was genuine – he had been watching him for half an hour and following him for ten minutes before that. He was armed with a gun at his hip and possibly a knife between his shoulder blades, but that was only to be expected and Alex had far more weapons on him so it would be rather hypocritical to complain.

Fortunately, the boss's reaction was much more controlled than the lackey's and his eyebrow barely flickered in surprise at his employee's youth.

"Thanatos, I presume," he said. "I am Luka Markovic. You are a very difficult man to get hold of."

Alex inclined his head slightly.

"I pride myself on it," he said.

"We contacted you a week ago," said Markovic. "And yet you have only just shown up here. Why?"

The blond shrugged slightly. "I had... other engagements."

Markovic raised an eyebrow. "We can't afford to have you disappearing for another job, Thanatos," he said, reprovingly. "We can't afford to draw attention to ourselves."

Now it was Alex's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I haven't agreed to work for you yet, Markovic. We still have things to discuss: what, exactly, you require from me; how much you are willing to pay."

Luka sighed. "I was told you were the best."

"The best costs," said Alex, coldly.

"I am, unfortunately, aware of the fact," said Markovic, dryly. "But it would probably save time if we were to discuss your... duties first."

"Probably," said Alex, perfectly aware that he was talking more than necessary. It was part of a subtle game of manipulation and intimidation that occurred at the start of every contract. Unfortunately for his employers, Alex's main influence was Yassen Gregorovich – he was good, however much Alex had personally hated the man - and he had been completely in charge, constantly. Beholden to nothing and nobody, he had gained control of his often unstable employers and never lost control of himself or the situation. Right up until he did.

"You will be teaching," said Markovic and Alex remained silent, knowing that his silence would have greater affect than any words would in this instance. Markovic cleared his throat nervously.

"Our graduates leave here with whatever qualifications they need to face life in the world, and whatever skills they need to make their way in the underworld. You will be teaching a bit of both... I assume you have a degree of some sort? Most assassins do."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I am well versed in most subjects you would care to name... but have no official qualifications. I have no need of them."

Markovic frowned. "Of course. I guess you are younger than expected. It is completely understandable that you don't have a degree."

Alex remained silent, looking at his soon-to-be employer coldly.

Markovic coughed again and, inwardly, Alex smirked. The man really should find a way to express his nerves that was less obvious.

"Our classes are done by skill level rather than age as most of the students come from the streets and have patchy education at best."

"You train them to be soldiers? Assassins? What exactly? I can't imagine you go to all this trouble to train some henchmen. What is the benefit for you?"

"When they leave, we implant them with a tracking device designed to stop working after four years. For two of those years they are expected to get a legal job and sink out of sight. After that they can use their skills in any way they see fit – but they give us ten percent of their earnings until the tracker expires."

"And if they don't?"

"We kill them," said Markovic, bluntly.

"Talk about student-teacher relations," muttered Alex under his breath, then added in a louder voice, "I'll work here for two years, if you pay me enough for it to be worth my while."

Markovic raised an eyebrow.

"How much do you want?"

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Ok, so I'm going to admit to being nervous about the Markovic/Alex scene. Not sure it came out right. What did you lot think? As usual, reviews are the perfect medium to tell me what you thought!**_

_**Oh, and for those of you who are waiting, I should be updating From Failing Hands within the next few days. Just catching up with friends etc. If nothing else, I'm going down to London on Sunday for my friend's 21**__**st**__** and I can finish the chapter on the train. Can't guarantee regular updates on any of my stories just yet though, I'm afraid. I've got to check out my timetable first, and I won't get that til Tuesday. Will know more after that though, so keep an ear out, yeah?**_

_**Oh, and can I Re-Pimp the Alex Rider Fanfiction Awards. Simply search "The Royal & General Bank" in the search option having selected Forums and it'll come right up. :) Anyone can nominate a story, but only one per category I'm afraid. So far, we have four threads for nominations, but the complete list is below, and I'll keep badgering Rach until she puts them all up. :) So yeah, go and nominate! (This might be subject for change… sorry, but can't be certain yet.) Oh, and sorry, but you can't nominate your own fic! Slash is allowed, and crossovers have their own category, though only one for all of them, I'm afraid! Anything I missed? I don't know. Feel free to message me with questions, or just ask in the forum! There will be a Best Overall story, but the nominations for this will be the winners of other categories, so yeah…**_

_**List of Prizes available:**_

_**Best Completed Multichapter (Long); Best Completed Multichapter (Medium); Best Uncompleted Multichapter (Long); Best Uncompleted Multichapter (Medium); Best Completed Multichapter (Short); Best One-Shot/Short Fic; Best Original Character (Main); Best Original Character (supporting); Best Original Villain; Most interesting/amusing use of an unconventional item in a fight scene; Best Fight Scene; Most unusual escape plan; Best/Most Original SAS fic; Best/Most Original Guardianship fic; Best suicide/death fic; Best portrayal of Canon Character; Best Fic by Genre (Humour, Hurt/Comfort. Angst, Mystery, Friendship etc); Best Torture Scene/fic; Best Crossover; Best Series of fics.**_

_**And… sorry for the uber A/Ns…**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: So, my update schedule has been shot to hell by my uni timetable. Tuesday afternoons tend to be fairly free, but I've just been bullied into becoming the Area Coordinator for our uni's volunteering hub, so am now losing time to that, and I want to join trampolining because, let's face it, I bounce around enough as it is, I may as well do it for a purpose, right?**_

_**Anyways, I'm updating now, on a train down to London (again), this time to see Warhorse, which is supposed to be amazing. Anyway, you've all been very patient, so I'm going to go ahead and finish this and not delay you anymore.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

"Alright, class," said Markovic. "This is your new teacher, Mr..." he paused and turned to look at Alex.

The blond laughed wryly. "Don't look at me – I've not used a real name in years."

"Alright," said Markovic, obviously slightly put out. "This is Thanatos. He is going to be teaching you in the afternoons for the foreseeable future."

The mornings, after today, would be given over to more standard instruction, Markovic had explained. They didn't expect Alex to teach A-level science. However, he was given a detailed plan of what they would be learning and when, so that he could add to it and compliment it, as he saw fit.

Alex remained silent as Markovic, shifting uncomfortably, made his excuses and left.

"Good morning," said Alex, quietly. He didn't need to speak any louder; the entire class was in shocked silence, all eyes focused on him with something approaching awe.

"As you heard, my name is Thanatos. You will respect me. You will not talk in class unless invited to do so. You will obey me without hesitation. Are there any questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one," said a boy at the back. Alex recognised the type: cocky and holding a strong belief that he already knew everything. "Why are you teaching us? You can't be much older than we are!"

Alex pushed himself up from where he had been leaning casually on the desk. Silently, he walked towards the boy, picking up the register as he went.

He ran an eye down the list then returned his gaze to the boy who was now looking distinctly less arrogant.

"David Petrov," he stated, coldly. "Correct?"

Petrov nodded.

"Well... David," said Alex. "I am teaching you because your... headmaster hired me to. He hired me because I am the best. But right now you have bigger problems because _you_ just broke one of the rules."

Petrov swallowed. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked, nervously.

Alex tilted his head to the side. What _was _he going to do to him?

"Because of you, the entire class will be meeting me outside the main doors at eight o'clock tonight. I think we will be going for a little run. Anyone who doesn't keep up, doesn't come back."

-o-O-o-

Matt huddled down in the doorway and shivered. He'd not even been on the street for two days and he was already regretting coming. He just wanted to go home – what had he been thinking? Him? A spy? Not likely.

So he knew karate, and so he spoke Russian just as well as he spoke English, that didn't mean he could be a _spy. _He'd never even fought anyone outside the dojo before coming here!

And in the last forty-two hours, he had been in more fights than his entire karate career, all of them against boys who were bigger and stronger than him. Every part of his body was killing him from a mixture of cold, lack of food and constant fighting.

And four more boys had just appeared at the entrance to the alley.

He smothered a groan and clambered warily to his feet.

-o-O-o-

Alex eyed the rag-tag line trailing out behind him. They'd kept up for the first couple of hours, but now as it approached midnight they were starting to lag. Only Petrov was keeping up through what Alex suspected was simply will power and a burning anger at being humiliated by Alex in class.

"Stop," said Alex, as he pulled into an alley and Petrov ground to a halt panting beside him. "Well done, kid, I'm impressed. Hopefully next time it'll be more than anger keeping you on my heels, yeah?"

Despite himself, Petrov smiled before quickly turning it back into a scowl.

"Going to have to work on the self-control though," said Alex and the scowl became real.

Alex chuckled. "Like I said... control."

Slowly the rest of the group filed in and stood in front of him, crowding around Petrov like sheep.

"You've been running for three and a half hours," he said quietly. "If you cannot keep up this pace for that amount of time, then we desperately need to work on your fitness or it will get you killed. We will start to head back now. We should be back by dawn – I'll slow the pace for you a bit seeing as you obviously can't keep up."

"Petrov," he said and the boy stood up a little straighter. Yes, the boy hated his guts but he still wanted to impress him. "Do you remember the way back?"

The boy nodded.

"Good. You're leading to start with. I have something to check out first and then I will catch you up."

The boy nodded again and Alex waited for a moment.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped impatiently. "Get moving!"

The children turned around and began to jog back, going considerably slower than they had been earlier, he noted with displeasure.

As the last one rounded the corner, he turned back towards another alley branching from this one. The noises were loud enough that the kids would have heard them, but the majority of them had grown up on the streets of Moscow and the belief that it was generally better not to know was firmly ingrained.

There was quite obviously a fight going on at the end of the alley between two boys and another, much smaller, figure. Somehow Alex wasn't surprised to see Matt's bruised face looking back at him.

He was slightly surprised by the two boys already unconscious on the floor. Surely that was enough to prove Matt to Markovic?

Even as he watched, Matt swept the legs out from one of his attackers in a move that definitely originated on the streets and Alex started forward.

"Hey!" he called and the three conscious boys turned towards him. The two attackers scrambled to their feet and fled. Matt looked at him expectantly.

Alex sighed. The kid's acting skills weren't up to much.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked in Russian.

"Matvey," answered Matt, nervously. "Matvey Kozlov."

Well, Kozlov, Alex knew, was a lie even in his cover, so apparently the kid could stay in character when he needed to.

"Of course it is," answered Alex in Russian with a raised eyebrow. "Speak any English at all, kid?"

"A little," said Matt, in a perfect English accent and Alex sighed.

"Can you do a Russian accent?" he murmured and Matt blushed.

"Ok, kid. You're coming with me."

-o-O-o-

His classmates barely even waited for Thanatos' nod before stumbling into their beds. He was about to follow them when Thanatos caught his eye and David knew he was supposed to stay behind. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand straight and look alert, despite the fact he just wanted to fall into bed and sleep for twelve hours straight.

He was seriously starting to regret talking back to the blond in class. He wouldn't be doing it again – it just wasn't worth it. Plus his classmates would probably try and kill him tomorrow.

Silently, he glanced at the newcomer that Thanatos had picked up. He looked a few years younger than David – perhaps fifteen – but David wasn't going to discount him simply because of that. He must have done something to impress Thanatos enough for the man to bring him back here.

"Wait here," instructed the blond. "I'll be back as soon as I've found somewhere for _Kozlov_ to rest."

He easily caught the ironic emphasis on Kozlov and guessed that Thanatos thought the kid was lying about his name. Why he hadn't pressed the matter, David couldn't say. Maybe he thought that Kozlov would be more forthcoming once he knew he was safe.

He suppressed a sigh of exhaustion and leant against the wall as his teacher disappeared into the school. He'd always liked the building, ever since he had been brought here aged thirteen. Four years later he was pretty sure he knew everything he could possibly need to know and had lost a lot of his awe for his teachers and the older students but he still loved the imposing gothic structure that housed the classrooms and dormitories.

A few minutes later, Thanatos reappeared and David hastily straightened. How did the man move so quietly? David hadn't heard a thing!

"Petrov," said the man disapprovingly, and David flushed in shame. He shouldn't have been relaxing like that, not without permission. It was a sign of weakness and he refused to be weak.

"You did well tonight," said Thanatos. "I would be pleased if it had come from a desire to _im_prove yourself rather than just a desire to prove yourself."

David stood still, unsure whether it was a compliment or an insult but determined not to shame himself either way.

"From now on, you will run laps on the track everyday from sunrise to sunset, until you want to enhance your skills and come to me to ask to learn. Understood?"

"But, sir!" protested David. "That's not fair! Why should I have to run all day? My fitness is the best in the class! _I'm _the best in the class!"

Thanatos simply looked at him. "You are the best in the class, but not the best you can be. When you are willing to be that, you can return. Right now, it is not your abilities I seek to improve."

He turned and walked away, leaving an open-mouthed David behind him.

This was _so_ unfair.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: Mwahaha. So, who likes David? I'm afraid he's going to be fairly important, but don't worry, I swear he isn't going to become a Gary-Stu. And he doesn't stay so obnoxious, I promise!**_

_**Well, not quite so obnoxious.**_

_**Remember, reviews are love!**_

_**Also, go and find the Royal & General forum. All the threads are now up, if they weren't last time (I can't remember) and the nominations close on the 1**__**st**__** of November! If you want your favourite story to win, you need to go and nominate it! (if it's already been nominated, feel free to nominate it again – it'll come into play in the reader's choice award) One nomination per category per person, jsyk.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Hey guys, I'm back. For real this time. Somewhere along the way I forgot that if I fail and screw up, I can pick myself up and start again. I don't have just one shot at success. I can always change my mind, my life and myself and that's exactly what I'm doing. Consider this my confession.**_

_**I'm a self-harmer, I have nightmares, insomnia upon occasion and countless headaches. I don't eat properly. I have no motivation and very low self-worth in everything except for my writing. And I haven't properly written in months, despite the fact that I **_**enjoy**_** it.**_

_**But, as I said, I can change. And I'm going to. Yes, life is hectic, but that doesn't mean that I should give up. I used to think that if I screwed up enough I could always kill myself, but for some reason the thought of starting again never occurred to me. For way too long I've been content to drift, and allow things to happen to me. Not anymore. From now on I'm going to take my life in the direction I want it, whether that's becoming director of an advertising agency, or becoming a published author, or joining the army, or any combination of the above. I'm going to try all of them if I have to, and **_**chose**_** one. Not let one chose me.**_

_**You probably don't care about any of this, but I'm telling you anyway, because if I tell someone, I'll stick to it. And, hell, there's no way I'm telling my family or housemates.**_

_**G – if you're reading this, please, **_**please**_** don't bring it up? This is already one of the hardest things I've ever done. Thank you sweet.**_

_**Anyways, yeah, I didn't just get you to come on here to listen to my confession. You get a chapter as well! Yay!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex frowned slightly at the distant figure running laps around the playing field. It had been three days and still Petrov showed no signs of relenting. He sighed. Apparently it'd take longer than he thought to make the boy tractable enough to teach.

Well, they did say that the hardest person to break had the strongest spirit. When Petrov had learnt his lesson, he would be quite the pupil. Alex might even teach him on a one-to-one level. The teen could really benefit from it. He could be one of the best, if given the right training. He sighed.

"How long are you planning on keeping him at that?" asked Markovic from the back of the room. Alex had been studiously ignoring him for the last five minutes.

"He can stop anytime he wants. He just has to come and ask me."

Markovic blinked. "_Why,_ exactly?"

"He has to learn he's not invincible," said Alex, "Maybe then he'll actually listen long enough for me to teach him something."

He paused and looked back at the older man. "But you didn't come here to discuss Petrov."

"No," said Markovic. "It's that new boy... Sarov."

So, Matt then. Alex hadn't been too happy with MI6 for that name choice.

"What about him?" he asked, mimicking mild disinterest. He had point blank refused to train the boy, claiming he wouldn't train someone that new, but had agreed to assess Matt's progress every three days. If Matt didn't keep up to standard, he'd be kicked out.

"There's something odd about him," said Markovic. "He didn't seek you out, did he? I..."

"Something odd?" said Alex, raising an eyebrow mockingly. "They're teenagers, there's something odd about the whole lot of them."

"Well, yes," admitted Markovic, "but especially him."

Silently, Alex cursed. The kid had only been here for three days! His first assessment wasn't until tonight for fuck's sake!

"I'll keep an eye on him tonight," said Alex, curtly. "Would you care to actually _share_ your suspicions with me? Or would you prefer to simply ramble on mysteriously?"

"I- I- I don't know what my suspicions _are_," confessed Markovic. "I mean... if it was an _adult_ then I'd say he was a spy, but a kid? It's... ridiculous."

"I'll keep an eye on him," said Alex again. "I doubt that an intelligence agency would hire a child-" no, they'd never _hire_ one. Why waste money on wages when exploitation worked so well? – "but if they _did_... well, he's still just a child."

"Yes... yes, you're right. Sorry, I'm being paranoid."

"Don't worry about it," said Alex. He glanced out of the window and noticed that night had finally fallen. He could just about make out Petrov's pale blond hair as he came back in.

"Excuse me," he said. "I have somewhere to be."

"Oh," said Markovic, "Of course. Sorry."

It was funny, mused Alex, that he seemed to be the one in control, despite Markovic being his employer.

Of course, if it had been any other way he wouldn't still be here.

-o-O-o-

Matt looked half dead when Alex finely met him. His face was bruised from the brutal combat training as well as from his days on the street. He was obviously on his last reserves.

"Matvey," said Alex, sitting down opposite the boy. "I hear you decided that your name was Sarov, in the end," he added in Russian.

Matt blushed and nodded.

"How have you found the first few days?" asked Alex, in English this time

"Difficult," muttered Matt, his Russian accent thick enough for Alex to mentally applaud the boy for effort, and curse his lack of subtlety.

"And is the English coming along ok?" asked Alex.

The boy blushed again.

"I'll see if I can get you some more lessons," said Alex, mentally noting to push it hard enough for Markovic to push back and give them to him. It would give him more time with the boy.

"And the combat?" he asked, switching back to Russian and deciding to keep the rest of the conversation in that language as it would seem more natural.

"I'm bruised from head to toe, but I've won more than I've lost," said Matt and Alex noted the growing Moscow accent in his voice. That better not grow too fast or he'd get in trouble. The kid actually had a touch of Eastern European in his features. Not in his chestnut coloured hair, but in his pale skin and blue eyes.

Maybe he was part Russian. It'd explain why the kid spoke fluent Russian but could barely garble his way through the basic tenses in French – something most people got at least a basic grasp of in year seven. Well, unless you believe the papers.

It'd also explain why MI6 would assume he would be perfect for this mission, despite his lack of training, experience and suitability for the job. Because he had to face up to the fact that this kid wasn't cut out to be a spy. He could fight, he was bilingual, but he wasn't ready for this world. Maybe when he'd grown up a bit, had a bit more experience in life and realised that it wasn't always going to go well and that there were people out there who could – and most likely would, if he carried on like this – kill him.

In a word, he wasn't hard enough. He cared too much about everything.

Alex could remember a time when he'd cared – they'd been the worst years of his life – but he didn't think he had ever been that _soft_.

And what was worse, the kid knew it and it put him on edge making him stand out even more. It was no wonder Markovic had said there was something odd about him. The kid stuck out a mile. He might as well hang a fluorescent sign around his neck that read spy and paint a target on his forehead.

He suddenly realised that the kid was looking at him and that he had taken talking as far as he could – storing away the kid's answers in the back of his head. Nothing really to worry about and his knowledge had grown exponentially. He'd complete a quick analysis of Matt's fighting skills and then he could leave.

They were already leaving when he slipped the A4 piece of paper to him.

"Transmit it and then destroy it," he instructed quietly. "If anyone finds any evidence as to what you are, they will kill you and I won't help you out. My priority is to complete the mission, not to keep you alive. Markovic is already suspicious."

The boy paled and nodded.

"I'll burn it," he said.

"Good," said Alex. "And put the ashes down the sink. Don't leave a single trace behind."

The boy nodded again.

"Now get out of here. I don't want to see you for another three days."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, you suffered through my A/N. Was this chapter reward enough? :) Please review and tell me if you enjoyed it!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Ok, so another headache has hit and I can barely see straight. I'm actually typing this with my eyes closed, so I apologise for any spelling mistakes, although I promise I'll check afterwards! I'm sorry for the delay in this. I wanted to get a chapter of FFH out before this, but writer's block is proving a b*tch and I'm having trouble getting the scene down just right. Yeah, ok, I'm being a bit of a perfectionist. So sue me. But anyway, I'm uploading this, mainly because I think I'm worrying some people by admitting to what I did in my last A/N and then disappearing.**_

_**Oo, and guess who got bullied into going to a carol service tonight? I'm not religious in any sense of the word (except for that one idiot who tried to tell me that yes, I was, because atheism is a faith and faith is religion. I gave him such a 'wtf?' look that he actually had the grace to blush) and yet I've been 'persuaded' to go so that I can help raise money for this volunteering scheme that I'm a part of. Ah well, I've always liked the songs, I guess.**_

_**Now, I would like to say that I'm going to leave you to read the chapter while I bury my head under my pillow, but unfortunately I have a ridiculous amount of work to do, so I shall go and be a good little student, and you shall enjoy the chapter. Well, I hope you shall enjoy the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**_

_**And, Mwahaha. Touch typing ftw! Not one spelling mistake. :)**_

-o-O-o-

Alex sighed and sank down onto the chair by his desk. Luckily, the teachers had accommodation in a series of small cottages a few hundred metres from the main house. He wasn't sure he could deal with close proximity to teenagers for so long – especially not while sleeping. Anyone who disturbed him was more likely to get their blood spilt than receive the help they had been looking for.

No, he was perfectly happy to leave _that_ job to Markovic and whoever he had hired.

It also made it easier to hide certain things.

As an assassin he had plenty of excuses for the locked case and most people were too sensible to ask, but even for an assassin, a briefcase rigged with a vial of gaseous poison could be considered a bit much.

Carefully searching the case for a sign of intrusion and his room for anything unwanted, he undid the lock and keyed in the nine digit number on the electrical number pad that was revealed. In the case was a variety of things: several types of poisons that could be used for anything from causing a minor illness and vomiting to paralysis and death, two well maintained guns and a few other weapons, a roll of lock-picks, photos and details of various hits he would shortly undertake and, of course, all documentation that could link him to MI6.

Sighing, he pulled out a sheaf of paper and began to read it over.

He growled in frustration. There was obviously something that Markovic wasn't telling him. Alex had done the maths and this place should barely be scraping a profit – especially with what Markovic had agreed to pay Alex.

It didn't make sense to do all the hard work for about a hundred grand a year. May as well do something legal and lose the risk.

He'd have to try snooping around Markovic's office. Maybe he could get Matt to provide a distraction?

He shook his head and put the papers back in his briefcase. Sighing, he pulled a stack of papers towards him. He had set an essay on the uses of poisons in the nineteenth century. Needless to say, he was now regretting it as he had to mark all of them for tomorrow.

Looks like he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.

-o-O-o-

He finished marking sometime after midnight. The essays had been better than he expected, in all honesty. The majority of students had focused on their use or their manufacture. A few of the better ones compared one or the other with modern day techniques, sometimes both. All in all, even given the bias their training had towards assassination, they were better than he had expected. He guessed the threat of getting chucked out onto the streets was a good motivator.

Even so, after so many, he didn't think he'd want to ever have to read an essay on it again. He glanced, briefly, at the door that led to his bedroom, but shrugged off the urge to sleep. He was waking his students up in three hours anyway. If he went to bed now, he'd be in a worse state than if he stayed up.

Given that… he guessed he should go have a look around. It was in his best interests to finish this mission as quickly as possible, and he wouldn't do anyone any good if he just sat around here.

He stood up and turned out the light, before walking through to his bathroom and turning that one on. Five minutes later, he repeated the process, moving to his bedroom. For anyone looking at him through the closed curtains, it would seem as if he was going to bed.

Quickly, he got changed into darker clothing of a light, smooth cloth that wouldn't rustle and turned off the light. In complete darkness, he made his way to the door and slipped out. He was probably being slightly paranoid, but there was no point taking risks.

The first thing he realised, with a decidedly fed-up scowl, was that it was raining. If he'd wanted rain, he would have stayed in England, for gods' sake. Luckily, it wasn't the all-pervading drizzle that the British had learnt to deal with, that could soak anyone within minutes without them realising, and neither was it far to the main building. He was only a little damp by the time he reached the dry halls. Of course, they were hardly warm, and combined with the damp clothes, it felt as if every particle of warmth was leeched from his body in seconds.

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself before hurrying on. There was no-one here to see the uncharacteristic display of human weakness, after all.

The key, he thought offhandedly, wasn't sneaking along and hiding in shadows – which he had to admit he was doing a little bit of out of habit, but that was beside the point – but looking as if he had every right to be there. This was greatly helped by the fact that he had, if not every right, then enough that no one would question him on it.

Brilliant. Now he just had to find out where he really wasn't supposed to be.

Well, no better place to start than the boss's private files, he guessed.

Silently, he turned in the direction of Markovic's office.

-o-O-o-

Alex swore profusely as he ran into another bloody layer of protection. Markovic was apparently a paranoid bastard. Well, considering that Alex had spent the last ten minutes trying to hack into the files, he might have had a point.

Alex sighed and attempted once again to access the files. So far, he had managed not to leave a trace of what he was doing, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer. It looked as if he might actually have to get the password. Damn.

Frowning, he quickly shut down the computer. He was about to leave when he heard a strange scratching sound outside.

Two steps and he was hidden in the shadows.

He paused for a moment, before slowly moving closer to the door. This close, the sound was clearer, and he could tell exactly what it was.

Someone was picking the lock.

Actually, someone was _trying_ to pick the lock. Rather badly, in fact. Thankfully, Alex had taken the precaution of relocking the door behind him, but now he was left wondering just who was trying to break into Markovic's office.

He heard a whispered curse, and immediately growled in irritation. He flicked the lock and pulled the door open, his hand flashing down to grab the offender by the ear and tug him into the office.

"Matt," he spat, angrily. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Matt, who had frozen in fear when the door open, immediately relaxed when he saw it was Alex. Alex wasn't so sure that that was a good idea. He was, after all, one of the most deadly men in the world, and none too kindly disposed towards Matt at the best of times, which this was decidedly not.

"I was just trying to get some information!" the kid protested.

"Keep your voice down," snapped Alex. "And what one earth gave you the impression that this was a good idea? What part of 'already suspicious' do you not understand? Christ! I thought Jones would at least make sure you had some modicum of intelligence before sending you on this mission!"

Matt was looking mutinous and Alex snarled. The little idiot was going to get himself killed.

"Listen, brat," he snapped. "I did _not_ come here so that you could get us both killed. If you get caught, you're on your own. I will _not_ bail you out, understand?"

Matt was beginning to look cowed, but there was still an undercurrent of rebellion and resentment.

"If I think you're a threat to the mission," he said, looking straight into Matt's eyes. "I'll kill you myself, and use your death to gain Markovic's trust."

And there it was. Finally, the boy looked scared. And so he should be. Fear would keep him alive.

"I'll take you back to your dormitory."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: And there you have it. Sorry that not much has been happening recently. It'll pick up soon though. I promise.**_

_**Now, please review? Reviews are the neurofen that will keep me alive long enough to update!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Hello everyone! This chapter is being uploaded because my gorgeous boyfriend is bullying me into it because he wants to know what happens next. (I decided I'm not going to let him get any more previews just yet.) Sorry that it took me so long to update – I wanted to finish From Failing Hands before I updated, but seem to have hit a little writers block in that one… I know what has to happen, I'm just having a few issues with writing it in a manner that isn't completely OOC. Anyways, yeah, sorry!**_

_**Now, I won't delay you anymore… here's the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Alex Rider and all associated characters belong to Anthony Horrowitz. I'm just… borrowing, without permission. But with every intention of giving them back… (mostly unharmed, and decidedly un-sunk.)**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

They were barely three turns away from Matt's dormitory when Markovic stumbled upon them. He was dressed in a woollen dressing gown, and looked distinctly unthreatening, despite the fierce scowl on his face.

"Thanatos," said the man, flatly. "Why are you here at this time of night? And why is Sarov out of bed?"

"Caught him half way to the girl's wing," said Alex, matching Markovic's scowl. "Reckon he's taken a fancy to one of them."

Markovic growled in annoyance. "Teenagers. Honestly. Why would we torture ourselves like this?"

"Well, I don't know about you," began Alex, wryly, "but you're paying me rather well to put up with them."

Markovic snorted. "And what are we going to do with this one, then?"

"I was thinking, extra stealth lessons every day at dawn, until he can actually sneak there _without_ getting caught."

"You're teaching him, then," said Markovic. "I'm not getting someone on my arse for making them teach a brat that early."

"Fine," sighed Alex.

By this time, they had reached the dormitory, and Alex abruptly shoved Matt through the door with an admonition to stay put.

"And why were you out of bed?" asked Markovic. "As far as I'm aware, your quarters aren't even in this building, are they?"

"You know perfectly well that they're not," said Alex, outwardly irritated but inwardly thinking fast. "I'm just here to get my class."

"In the middle of the night?" asked Markovic, raising an eyebrow.

"Apparently," said Alex, dryly. "You know, if you wanted to do me a favour, you could go and wake up the girls for me."

"I'm not your lackey, Thanatos," said the man, amusedly.

"No, hence the reason why it's a favour," said Alex with a warm smile. "You don't mind, do you, Luka?"

"Fine, but you owe me. Dealing with a group of teenaged girls in the middle of the night is _not_ my idea of fun. Did you know that there are rumours that they actually tied your predecessor up and ravaged him? They say it's the reason that he left."

Alex blanched.

"I think I'll definitely leave it in your capable hands, then," he said.

"Best had," smirked Markovic, his eyes flicking intimately over Alex's body. "Someone as young and beautiful as you would be torn apart – no matter how skilled you are."

Alex rolled his eyes and turned towards the boys' dormitory as Markovic left, one confused thought circling his head.

Had Markovic been… _flirting_ with him?

-o-O-o-

"Alright!" roared Alex, bursting into the dormitory that held his class and doing his best to imitate the Sergeant from Brecon Beacons. "GET your lazy arses out of bed."

He snagged the blankets of the two closest beds and yanked them off, before moving further in and tipping the next two he came across off the beds by the simple method of turning over their mattresses.

By now there was at least some movement and he began to yell again.

"Right! I want you all to meet me in front of the building in ten minutes!"

-o-O-o-

The girls were already there when Alex arrived, and were decidedly bored when the boys finally got their act together. Thankfully, Markovic wasn't with them. Alex needed to choose how he was going to act on Markovic's apparent interest, something he had decidedly not decided yet.

"We're heading over to the armoury," he said, gesturing in the general direction, and the class filed off.

"David!" he said, grabbing the teen by the shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing here, sir?" asked the boy, his eyes wide.

"You're not part of this class, therefore, not part of this exercise."

"But-!"

"Yes…?"

"…Nothing, sir," sighed David, turning to trudge back inside.

Alex watched him walk off contemplatively. There had been no anger in David's response, just a type of weary resignation. Tomorrow morning, he'd have his star student. He just had to hope that the kid lived up to his, admittedly high, expectations.

He watched the front door close and then jogged off after his students. They were huddled outside the armoury like penguins, tucked together for warmth, backs turned to the rain and the driving wind that had picked up some time since Alex snuck out.

The armoury itself had at once point been an outhouse, but had been converted using inch-thick steel to stop anyone, from thieves to curious students, out, unless they had the key to the lock, taken directly from the only safe that had never been broken into with anything less than explosives.

Alex unlocked the heavy black-painted metal doors and pulled them open with the shriek of metal on stone.

He led them past the cages filled with racks of guns and blades and other assorted weapons – including one or two that he would really appreciate a closer look at, at some point - to the back room where there were a set of paintball guns. Although they had no particular need to be locked away, they were in the armoury partly because it made sense to keep them with all the other guns, practice only or not, and partly because they were in a school full of teenagers, however irregular those teenagers might be, and it was hardly a wise idea to leave them free access.

Already, he could feel the ripple of excitement pass through the small crowd behind him and had to supress a groan of annoyance.

"Alright, everyone, take a gun," he ordered, moving towards the multi-coloured ammo, "then come to me for ammunition."

Quickly, he counted the colours and was relieved to note that there was just enough for each student to have a different colour. If he repeated this exercise when David was here, he'd have issues, though.

He handed out fifty shots a student and led them all to one of the minibuses that the school used. Sometimes, the school seemed far too normal to be a school for assassins.

He drove them to the far side of the city and pushed them out.

"The exercise is really quite simple," he explained quietly. "You must get back to the school, without being seen. You all start off with fifteen points. Every time that you get shot, you lose points, and every time you manage to shoot someone else, you gain points. One point for extremities, two points for a debilitating shot and three points for a kill. Points will also be awarded, or deducted, for your time and in what position you finish. Your grade for this class will depend on what score you get. Are there any questions?"

One girl raised her hand – Alex thought she was called Aimi, an oriental girl who had been forcibly taken from the streets of Kyoto, in an attempt to force her into a life of prostitution. Unfortunately for her captors, she had escaped and, in doing so, killed them all with a stolen gun. Two days later, a very impressed Markovic had hunted her down and introduced her to the school. She had now been there for five years. She was average in fighting and shooting, but excelled in anything that involved controlling emotions. Personally, Alex thought she may be borderline psychopathic. It would explain why a twelve year old girl had had no issues with killing a dozen men without letting them say so much as a word.

Alex nodded to her and she began to speak.

"We don't have helmets," she pointed out.

"Well then you better not get hit in the head," he said, slowly and slightly patronisingly. Seeing their shocked and not a little fearful expressions, he relented. "Fine. A headshot means instant disqualification, and two months working with Madame Leclair, instead of your afternoon instruction."

Madame Leclair was the resident doctor, and almost everyone on campus was scared of her. This probably had less to do with her ferocious glare than the fact that her incredible skills at healing the human body came from keeping men alive for months under constant torture. She had been one of Dr Three's protégées, according to rumour, and the only one to escape the now-dead torture expert with her life, after she had decided that he had taught her all she needed. No one knew why, though there were whispers of seducing him, of blackmail and of Doctor Three fearing her.

Alex didn't believe the last. Doctor Three hadn't been scared of anything, including Alex, right up until Alex had cut his throat. As for the others, he wasn't about to ask.

"Make the most of this," said Alex, his voice cold. "Next time won't be so easy."

Without another word, he climbed back into the van and drove back to the school, pondering the results.

It would be interesting to see who would rely on speed to gain points through a high position, and who would try to shoot their fellows and gain points that way.

Aimi, he reckoned, would be one of the former, while David, had he been taking part, would have been one of the latter as it put him in more direct competition with his fellows. The need to prove himself to everyone was probably also going to cause problems in the more subtle areas of espionage. He had the urge for people to see how good he was, which would inevitably get him into trouble when the aim was not to be noticed. If, however, David could be persuaded that the only person he needed to impress was Alex… well… the results would be desirable, to say the least.

Alex shook his head and returned his attention to the road. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get a few hours' sleep before his class began to trickle back in.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, what did you think? Review and tell me? I'm going back to uni next weekend, but I'm going to try and get another chapter of ALL my current stories up before then, so keep an eye out! Of course, I'll probably update this a lot faster if I get lots of lovely reviews…**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: My boyfriend is decidedly irritating. I am currently working on a short sequel for Perfectly Normal, and he's telling me that it's obvious that Wolf and Alex are flirting. I don't know what his school years were like, but when someone told me that I couldn't go out if it was a school night, it was being parental, not flirting! I think he's just obsessed. Of course, he managed to read this series first, so it might have changed his outlook somewhat, but still! **_

_**Anyway, my urge to rant has now been satisfied and we can move onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

After an hour and a half of sleep, Alex was forced to get up. Privately, he cursed Matt to the deepest depths of hell for getting himself caught last night and forcing them both into this situation, but knew that it wouldn't really have made any difference if he hadn't had a class at dawn. He did admit, if only in the privacy of his own head, that he should have stuck with his original plan and simply pulled an all-nighter. As it was, his limbs felt weighed down with fatigue and his eyelids continued to droop.

After a large cup of extra-strong coffee, he managed to regain control of himself and went to wake up Matt. He was gratified to see that the teen looked even worse than he felt.

"Up!" snapped Alex, yanking the duvet off.

Matt groaned and tried to snatch it back, only to fall with a bump on the floor.

"Wha'si'?" he asked, which Alex hesitantly translated to "What is it?"

"You have a lesson with me, now," said Alex, calmly. "Get dressed and meet me in my classroom in five minutes."

Matt swore – in Russian, Alex was glad to note. The boy was finally getting a handle on his cover – and scrambled for some clothes.

Alex turned on his heel and left.

Matt arrived at the classroom at the same time as two of Alex's class. Aidán and Ciro were twins from Spain. They'd been living on the street for as long as they could remember, earning their keep as pickpockets, until one day they'd lifted the wallet of the wrong person. Freaked out by the multiple identities shown by the wallet, the twins had panicked and returned it, though not before the target – a teacher at the school – had realised it was missing. The teacher had been so impressed that they managed to both lift it and return it without getting caught – only being found after an extensive, illegal search of CCTV cameras in the hotel where he was staying – that he had hunted them down and inducted them to the school.

Alex wasn't surprised that they were first. They were fast and sneaky and worked incredibly well as a team. Neither had any paint marks on them, save for a slight spattering on Ciro's heels, which would not count as a shot. Alex made a mental note to scour the most likely route the children would have taken to check for any obvious misses. If there were too many, he'd have to work on their moving target practice.

Dutifully, he marked down their time and sent them for a shower, telling them that they had free time until breakfast but that he would not advise going back to sleep. After the forlorn looks they cast at his now-empty coffee mug, he sighed and handed them the key to the teacher's kitchen.

"Go make yourselves a coffee, then come and give me the key back," he informed them and the two grinned and darted out of the door.

Alex would have been glad to know that he had one of the most contradictory reputations in the school. He's punishments were legendary – mainly due to the love of sleep that all teenagers possessed and his habit for depriving them of it – his exercises were considered both the most interesting and the hardest of any set by teachers and he was loved for the perks he would occasionally allow his students – such as using the teacher's lounge for coffee.

Alex signalled Matt to come forward from where he had been standing unobtrusively in the corner and signalled him to seat down. He'd start off running through the theory. Tonight, he'd get Matt to put it into practice.

-o-O-o-

Sasha was the last of his class to return, and she had more than her fair share of paint spattered on her clothes. He recorded the colours and amounts, then sent her to clean up. By this point, it was only ten minutes until breakfast started and she was looking a little harassed as she left.

When he had finished adjusting the scores to take into account the shots they had each hit and taken, the ranking was hardly a surprise. Sasha was bottom, which was to be expected as her speciality was based in her acting skills. She could become anyone she wanted to effortlessly, and disappear in a crowded street by changing who people saw. It made following her very difficult, but on an exercise such as this it was useless.

Sometimes, Alex felt sorry for Sasha. Her father – rumoured to be the assassin known as The Gentleman – had dropped her off at the school when she was just eight years old, and hadn't been back since. She was one of the very few with family still left alive, and the only one, as far as Alex knew, who hadn't left that family of her own accord.

The twins, despite having been the first to arrive back, had slipped down a couple of rankings because, while they hadn't been shot, neither had they shot anyone else, allowing Amy and a Russian girl called Marsha to beat them, if only by a few points.

About half the class desperately needed to improve their aim, he noted, after surveying the ammo he had collected back in. Whether this had simply been because they were not as careful with paintballs as bullets, or due to an actual deficiency, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

He was just making a note of the names when there was a knock on his classroom door.

Curiously, Alex glanced at the clock. Breakfast had started five minutes ago, so whoever it was couldn't have eaten yet. They must have wanted to talk to him before eating, but why?

"Come in," he called and the door was slowly pushed open.

It was David.

Alex hid his grin behind his emotionless-assassin mask and gestured to the spot in front of the desk.

"Mr Petrov," he said. "What brings you here?"

For a moment, David's eyes narrowed, and Alex mentally added a few points to his estimation of the teen in front of him, and made a note to teach him how to control his expression better. But, despite his flaw in showing it, David had recognised the power-play for what it was.

Generally, Alex disliked games of power, but if David wasn't willing to say that he wanted to learn, then he wasn't ready to be taught.

"I want to rejoin the class," said David in a rush. Encouraged, or perhaps intimidated, by Alex's continued silence, he elaborated. "It's just… everyone's talking about you, and the exercises you set. All the other classes are jealous and everyone is improving so much…" He trailed off with a blush.

"Yes…?" prompted Alex, gently.

"I could be the best," said David. "I _should_ be the best, if I can."

"It won't be easy, you know," he warned, and David nodded grimly. He'd obviously expected that.

"Good," said Alex. "Here is a list of the written assignment that you've missed. I assume that you've been keeping up with your… regular studies?" He paused for David's slightly indignant nod and awarded the teen with another smile.

"Ask Amy for her notes – I know she keeps good ones. Tell her I asked her to lend them to you." Privately, he thought Amy might be a little OCD, but it only had the effect of making her a very tidy person. He would keep an eye on it, though; it might turn out to cause problems in her in-character work.

"Go to breakfast," he instructed. "I'll see you this afternoon."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So what did you think? David's coming back to class! :D Ok, so you guys don't really know him yet, but I do, and I like him. I'm sure you will too. :)**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Hello everyone! So, who wants to kill me for taking so long to update? Anyways, pitchforks down because I have a brand new chapter for you… and you'll quite possibly need them at the end of the chapter and we don't want you to have to use them when they're not all nice and shiny, right? Well, ok, you at the back with the rust on, I guess that doesn't apply to you. But follow the example of everyone else. Unless you brought enough rusty pitchforks for everyone? No? Well, you know the rules. No maiming until **_**after**_** the chapter.**_

_**And, in case you haven't noticed yet, I'm in a VERY weird mood. But anyway, I've kept you waiting long enough onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**WARNINGS: Slash. And not nice, friendly Wolf/Alex either. :( Also, possible dub-con, depending on how you look at it.**_

-o-O-o-

Having a class with David was interesting. Just by being there, the kid changed the dynamic of the class. He didn't even think the students were aware of it, but he could see it as plain as day. Every word or action was preceded with a glance towards David. Most almost worshiped him, but there were a few who hated him. Even that didn't lessen his influence over them, though. They were always trying to irritate him – failing utterly – and in so doing were paying more attention to him than all the rest combined.

He was starting to doubt that they would listen to him at all, had he not removed David from the class at the beginning. As it was, the class was slowly returning to his control, in part due to David's rapt attention (no doubt he was fearful of being chucked out again) but mainly because of his fear-the-deadly-assassin persona. Or so he told himself.

Still, he was grateful when it was over.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised when David turned up in his classroom half an hour after class let out. He'd changed from the clothes he'd been wearing all day and wiped his face. He'd forgotten to comb his hair, though. It was still on end from hours of scrubbing his hands through it.

Not looking in a mirror meant that David obviously wasn't here with a definitive goal. He wasn't trying to impress Alex. Instead he wanted… well, Alex wasn't exactly sure yet.

"Mr Petrov," said Alex, looking up from the work in front of him.

"Hi, sir," said David with a cheeky grin. "Did you miss me?"

"My heart was bleeding I assure you," said Alex dryly. "Does this visit have a point?"

David threw himself into a chair and casually put his feet up on the desk in front of him. Alex raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"So how did I do today?" asked the teen.

"Pretty well, considering," allowed Alex. "I mean, you're way behind on weapons theory, but on the unarmed combat you seemed to be doing ok. Have you borrowed Amy's notes, yet?"

"Borrowed them this morning," said David carelessly. "Copied most of them in class."

"Which class?" asked Alex with a frown.

"German," said the boy with a faint scowl. Not a languages fan, then.

"For the next three days you'll only speak in German, the only exception being a direct reply to a teacher in one of your morning lessons."

"But sir-!"

"That's not German," said Alex, flatly.

"_Sorry, sir"_ muttered David sullenly, finally in the correct language.

"Good," said Alex. "Now, what did you make of the subjects?"

"_Actually,"_ said David, pulling out a sheaf of notes. "_I was hoping you could explain this to me a little more…"_

-o-O-o-

David, it turned out, was a demanding pupil. Normally, a teacher would be ecstatic to have such an enthusiastic charge, but when Alex had been planning on going back to his room and napping for a few hours before another midnight mission, he was decidedly unimpressed with having his brain extensively picked for four hours.

He would admit a small amount of pride when David managed to flawlessly dissect, assess and modify an infamous assassination attempt from the nineteen-eighties. With David's modifications, there was a high chance that the target would have been terminated.

"Look," he finally said. "It's late. I know you have a lot to catch up on, but you can't stay here all night. For a start, I need sleep too!"

David blushed slightly.

"Go and get dinner – tell the cook I kept you late; she'll give you something – then go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

-o-O-o-

As tempted as Alex was by the large, luxurious bed Markovic had provided, he couldn't afford to waste time sleeping. He knew he could spend up to two more nights without sleep before it would start to seriously affect his abilities, and even then he could survive on catnaps for another week. It was pointless to sleep tonight, no matter how much he would feel the lack of it tomorrow.

And so he once more found himself sneaking towards Markovic's office.

Tonight, he could hear faint snores coming from a door on the far side of the room, and realised that it must be Markovic's bedroom. It was probably a good thing that the man had been out wondering the halls last night, then, even if he had eventually caught Matt and Alex. Being caught together here would have been infinitely more condemning.

He ignored the computer. His last trip had been enough to prove to him that he would have to get his hands on the password, which would no doubt involve a hell of a lot of cunning on his part. As it was, he strode quickly passed the desk and over to a filling cabinet in the far corner of the room.

Here, he had more luck. The lock was easy to pick and, though the files were written in code, Alex was sure he could break it, given time.

He chose a couple of the files, ones that had traces of dust and signs of neglect, and slipped them under his top, relying on the waistband of his trousers to keep them in place.

He was turning to leave when he was interrupted.

"Thanatos?" whispered the sleepy, but calm, voice of Markovic from the far side of the room.

Alex turned, his face going blank to hide his irritation with himself. How could he not have noticed the man entering the room?

"I must be dreaming," said the man with a small laugh. "Although, admittedly you're usually wearing less clothing."

Alex didn't respond for a moment, before slinking closer to the man.

"Luka," he breathed against the man's cheek. "Luka, please, take me to bed."

If he wanted Markovic to carry on believing this was a dream, if he wanted him to _not_ realise exactly why he had been in the office, he'd have to play along.

The man groaned with want and tugged Alex towards the still-open door.

In the bedroom, Alex got a brief impression of dark crimson and chocolate brown before he was straddling Markovic on the edge of a rumpled king-sized bed.

The man underneath him groaned and thrust up against Alex's thigh, which Alex ignored with difficulty, then pulled the younger man down for a kiss.

Alex responded on automatic, his tongue swirling expertly to keep Markovic happy and distracted. His hands roamed over Markovic's back, before finding a pressure point on the back of his neck.

Within three seconds, the man was once again unconscious.

Alex manoeuvred him back into bed; hopefully, Markovic would assume that it had all been a dream when he woke up, although Alex had to admit that the thought of Markovic dreaming about him, apparently regularly, made him feel a little nauseous. Sometimes, he really hated his job.

Quickly, he checked that the files were still under his shirt and headed back to his own rooms.

He really wanted a shower right now, and a toothbrush. He _needed_ that toothbrush.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Reviews are the body armour that will keep me safe from pitchforks long enough for me to update!**_


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: So, migraines make me loopy. Who knew? Apparently I spent the entire of Friday afternoon telling my boyfriend that the lights were trying to eat me… I swear that that's not normal, but normality is over-rated anyway. (Or at least, that's what I say to comfort myself. I'd much rather be Odd)

Also, am very upset. The username ObsessivelyOdd is already taken on Tumblr and Twitter. :( *pout*. Very, very upset. Whoever it is on Tumblr, at least, has good taste in shows, I guess, but still. I reserve the right to pout as much as I like.

And I've fallen in love with Harleys all over again. *sigh* where am I going to get seven grand from?

Anyways, I'm sure I've kept you long enough! Onto the chapter!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.

-o-O-o-

The next few days passed in a blur of training exercises and marking and avoiding Markovic, the last proving far more interesting than would be usual due to the need for Markovic to be completely ignorant of the fact.

Under the pretence of training his class to operate on little sleep, Alex scheduled a multitude midnight training sessions and pre-dawn workouts. After four days, Alex had had six different complaints from the morning teachers and even David was starting to drift off in class. The slightly hyperactive kid had turned into Alex's weathervane for judging the mood and general well-being of the class and he knew that he couldn't push them much more. But neither could he stop just because they were tired without it seeming suspicious. He'd continue to the end of the week, then give them the weekend off – a rare treat for the students.

Well, mostly off, anyway.

Of course, he should have realised that it would never work out as he wanted. Barely twenty-four hours after that, in the middle of a lecture on copying local culture, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

He paused and raised an eyebrow at it.

"Yes?" he called, his voice cold, calm and completely hiding the annoyance he felt at the interruption.

Markovic leant around the door. "Thanatos, can I have a word?"

Alex had to try very hard not to grit his teeth.

"Just one second," he said. Markovic nodded and stepped inside the room. Alex felt momentary disbelief but dismissed the man from his thoughts and turned back to the class.

"Ok, recap," he said, grabbing a marker-pen from the desk and crossing to the whiteboard. Sometimes, he was amazed at just how normal the classrooms here were.

"Who can tell me the first stage of fitting in?" he asked.

"Observation," said Aimi, finally lifting her head from where it had been resting on her hands. "You need to identify what the people around you have in common, and which of those factors you can imitate successfully."

"Right," said Alex, scrawling it up on the board. Thankfully, his class had quickly learnt to decipher his handwriting; Markovic, on the other hand squinted at it in pure confusion, before apparently giving up.

"And what are the three key areas?"

"Costume-"

"Speech-"

"And mannerisms," said Adán and Ciro.

Alex gave them a flat look.

"Stop that," he instructed. "Your hand signals aren't as subtle as you think they are, and it is _irritating_. You are not characters from a children's novel."

"Yessir, sorry sir," muttered the twins.

"Apart from that, good answer!" said Alex with a grin. That too went onto the board.

"Ok, while I'm gone, I'm going to put a DVD with several different situations on. When I come back in, I want you to each have a plan to integrate yourself into each one."

He put in the DVD and, with one more glance to make sure they were getting down to work, walked out into the corridor.

"I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my class," he growled, as the door closed.

Markovic's eyes flashed. "And I hope _you _have a good reason for speaking to me like that," snapped the man. "I might have gone easy on you because you're talented as a teacher and one of the best of the profession we have, but _I am still your employer_."

Inwardly, Alex's mind was racing. His annoyance had made him slip up. Markovic might want to sleep with him, but you couldn't become a headmaster without wanting _some_ kind of power.

"Sorry," he said. "It's been a long week."

"So I hear," said Markovic, dryly. "Actually, that's what I want to talk to you about. I've had a few… complaints from the other teachers."

"Oh?" said Alex, plastering Rider Speciality Poker-Face #1 ('I am politely interested in what you're talking about, but I hold absolutely no responsibility') across his face. It was a very useful face. It had a myriad of uses from "No-I-did-not-blow-up-that-oil-rig" to "An-assassination?-Where?".

"Apparently the students in your class have been falling asleep in lessons."

Alex frowned. "They should have more control than that," he muttered, irritably.

"Would you care to explain?" asked Markovic.

Alex carelessly waved a hand. "It's just an exercise," he informed the man. "There is no guarantee that they'll always be able to get enough sleep – I intend to run several weeks like this, although spread out, to get them used to functioning when they aren't in optimal condition."

Markovic looked pained. "I know we don't have parents here to answer to," he said after a moment of silence, "but that doesn't mean we get away with _whatever_ we want, Thanatos. We're still registered as a school and _we still have inspections_. We've paid off the authorities to look the other way to some of our… eccentricities, but I doubt that will be enough if our students look as if we try to _kill_ them on a regular basis!"

"They're fine," said Alex. "They've got two more days to get through, and they're getting a bit of a break over the weekend."

Markovic sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. Just… clear it with me first, next time, yes?"

"Of course," said Alex, his face blank. "Can I get back to my lecture now?"

"What are you doing tonight?" asked Markovic suddenly. The tone of his voice had changed completely and Alex was immediately on edge.

"A night exercise on fitting in," said Alex quickly, wary of what Markovic was thinking.

For a moment, Markovic looked disappointed, before he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"I'm taking them to a club," commented Alex. "They're task is to last the night without raising any suspicions and without getting thrown out for being underage. It's not as challenging as it could be, I know, but – as you commented – they aren't at their best at the moment. I'm really only trying to test theory."

"Would you like some company?" asked Markovic. "Keeping track of them all is going to be a challenge, surely?"

"If I can't keep track of a group of teenagers in a nightclub then I should retire now," commented Alex dryly, pretending to completely miss the subtext behind Markovic's offer. It might suit him, at some point in the future, to use the man's feelings for him, but as of yet, he had no need to and would prefer not to have to. "I'm sure you have better things to do than to babysit a group of unruly teens."

"And here I was hoping that you could get me out of paperwork," said Markovic with a smirk. "Maybe some other time, without the brats?"

"Maybe," conceded Alex noncommittally, and slipped back into his classroom.

"Now," he asked. "How is everyone doing? Does anyone have any questions?"

For a moment there was silence and a general shake of heads, but then David tentatively raised his hand.

"Yes, Petrov?" asked Alex wearily.

David smirked, and Alex felt an inkling of foreboding before:

"Sir, why was Mr Markovic staring at your arse?"

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, no mean, nasty Alex/Markovic dub-con in this chapter! And, probably thanks to the Mithril wolfern so kindly leant me, I managed to survive the pitchforks. :)**_

_**Review and tell me what you thought?**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: I am so sorry! There is no excuse. I'd say exams, or a new job, but let's face it. It's been way too long for either of them to hold water. I do, however, already have the next chapter written, so that should be up this week, or next weekend at the latest!**_

_**So, without further ado, onto the chapter!**_

-o-O-o-

Thanatos, mused Aimi as she watched David pouring over a pad of paper, had absolutely no sense of humour. Of course, _she_ would never be stupid enough to say anything, but David had been getting rather cocky again, recently. It was only to be expected that he would pull some stupid stunt like this. He almost deserved to be forced to write a three page essay on why their teachers' personal life and preferences were none of his business. Had it been any other week, there would have been no 'almost' in there, but they were all exhausted this week.

What interested her more was Thanatos' reaction. Sure, irritation with David could be expected, but even so his reaction had seemed… out of place, somehow. There was no surprise, so obviously Thanatos _knew_ that Markovic liked him. But he'd been overly defensive and very careful not to let his true reactions show. What Aimi couldn't work out was what that meant.

She sighed and turned back to her German homework. Say what you like about the… unusual lessons they had, the school definitely taught to a high standard for the normal studies. She knew that Sasha was thinking of applying for special dispensation to go to university, but personally she was looking forward to actually getting out there. She _knew_ she was ready, if only they'd let her prove it!

But, _oh_, she hoped she'd be as good as Thanatos, one day. You could see in the way he moved that he was deadly. And he was so _young!_ She sighed and glanced over at Sasha on the far side of the upper-class common room. She was dozing on a sofa on the far side of the room, having kicked a couple of fifth years off it earlier. Maybe she had the right idea. Somehow, Aimi doubted that Thanatos was suddenly going to stop his campaign to get them to collapse from exhaustion.

-o-O-o-

She was right. Most of them, those who hadn't chosen to nap at any rate, were just finished off their work for the night when Thanatos barged in. David immediately started scribbling the essay even faster, but he may as well have not bothered for all the attention the blond took.

"Everyone in my class is expected to meet outside the front doors in ten minutes," he announced. "An hour's run for everyone, for every person who is missing and for every minute that you're late."

And he left. Aimi glanced around the room and cursed. Half the class were there, which gave them ten minutes to find the others and get them all outside. Sometimes, she really hated Thanatos.

"David – check the boys dorms. Sash, could you check the girls?" Both nodded and disappeared. She glanced around and saw a couple of fifth years pouring over a notebook.

"Hey, you two!" she called. "Check the gym and the cafeteria," she instructed. "Tell anyone you find that Thanatos' class is expected outside the main doors in five minutes!"

"But-" protested one of the kids and Amy snarled.

"_Now_, you little brat! I'm not in the mood for arguments!"

Normally, this would have been cause for a fight, but everyone had been treading carefully around Thanatos' sixth years ever since a first year had accidentally woken up the usually laid-back twins and had been found five hours later tied to the flag pole on the roof. The kid in question was still in the infirmary.

-o-O-o-

The club was full but not crowded. One of the better clubs in the city, the clientele was tightly controlled and the challenge it posed for the students – underage and underdressed – was exactly what Alex had wanted.

Sasha, it appeared, had swapped shirts with one of the twins, used her tie as a belt and removed her skirt. It was currently a popular fashion and, if she didn't quite fit in with the young professionals who frequented the popular venue, she looked a lot more appropriate than previously.

Marsha and Ciro had both had the same idea, stripping off to virtually their underwear to blend in with the servers-cum-strippers circulating the crowd, while Ciro's twin, Adán had Sasha's shirt on, with half the button's undone. Alex had never realised exactly how tight the boy wore his trousers, although it had apparently helped him get what he wanted, given how friendly he was getting with the twenty-something, bearded blond who had him pressed against the pillar. The boy had better not get distracted. Ciro clocked quickly enough and rolled his eyes, surreptitiously standing on his brother's foot when he went passed, and getting the bird in return.

Aimi had somehow managed to insinuate herself behind the bar and was expertly twirling cocktail shakers, but several others were looking a little lost and out of their depth The bouncers were already eyeing up a few of them.

David… had vanished. Alex frowned and glanced around. If the kid was hiding in the bathroom, Alex would have his genitalia on a stick for skiving.

But no, there he was. He was apparently playing a game of strip poker with a large group. So far he had acquired a hat, pair of sunglasses, waistcoat and a black t-shirt proclaiming him "Princess" in pink sequins, worn proudly under his regulation white shirt. He was doing well. Admittedly, Alex would have lifted the hat before joining the game, and ditched the shirt instead of the tie, but all in all, it was fairly impressive.

But nearly losing a student in the crowd was only the start of his problems, it seemed. Markovic had, somehow, managed to track them down and was sliding through the crowds towards him.

"You know," said the Head as he drew level with Alex, "We really need to discuss your paperwork. I know it seems like a foreign concept to you, but if a class of students disappears from campus, we tend to like to know where they are."

"They're with me," growled Alex, taking a sip of his drink and suddenly wishing it was alcoholic.

"Yes, but what if something happened to you?"

"Nothing is going to happen."

"I think you're missing the point of a what-if," commented Markovic dryly.

Alex sighed, quietly, the noise smothered by the pounding music, and kicked off the wall. "If something happens, then they are perfectly capable of getting themselves back – even if they have to run there."

"Well, how about a drink?" asked Markovic, indicating Alex's nearly empty glass.

"Sure," said Alex, mentally weighing the advantages of accepting against the disadvantages. He really should make an effort to keep Markovic sweet. "I'm on coke, though – I'm working after all."

The man nodded and slipped through the crowd, leaving Alex to scowl back at the dance floor. When he noticed David raising an eyebrow at him, his scowl increased and he quickly diverted his attention to check on his students again.

Three of them were nowhere to be seen, and Alex assumed they had been kicked out. They'd need some more practice.

Aimi, Ciro and Marsha had pockets full of tips, while Alex was convinced that Adán was going to catch an STI before the night was out, given the number of barely dressed youths who were piling into the booth with him.

Sasha, and the last three students, who were neither appalling nor decent enough to attract Alex's interest, were on the dance floor, most having ditched the school uniforms, finally. A couple looked as if they'd be getting lucky, but none to the extent of Aidan, who looked set to go home with half the club at this rate.

Sasha caught his eye and he jerked his head at her. It was time to give them another challenge.

"I need you to pass the message on. Everyone needs to come and see me about their new assignment."

"Sir?" asked Sasha, slightly confused.

Alex scanned the crowd quickly and picked out a man.

"See the man, by the pillar over there?" he asked.

"Tattoos, pierced lip, leaning against the pillar?" she clarified and Alex nodded.

"Get him outside, alone, at one o'clock."

She nodded and slipped away, just as Markovic returned with drinks.

"Everything okay?" he asked and Alex nodded, taking the glass from his outstretched hand. He sipped it and looked around, ignoring the sharp tang of vodka.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So a little more on the students here. When I started writing, I loved the thought of Alex as a teacher, but was reluctant to write his students. They're starting to grow on me though. What do you think? Who's your favourite? (And second favourite. I have a feeling quite a few will name David). But let me know? Also, ideas for those last unnamed six? Names, how they got in, etc. The best will be featured!**_

_**I promise I'll update soon!**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: So I've had an amazing week. I went to see the Olympic tennis on Monday and saw Federer AND Azarenka. I bought tickets to see Evanescence and The Used yesterday, and I will (hopefully) be buying tickets to see Slash tonight. I've also fallen in love with music and writing and everything that made me me again.**_

_**And throughout it all, I've been receiving your wonderful reviews. And I just want to thank you all for sticking with me. I promise I'm back, now. And that you're not getting rid of me!**_

_**And thank you for all the amazing characters. None are in this chapter, I'm afraid, because this was already written but keep an eye out in upcoming chapters!**_

_**Now, onto the chapter! (mainly because I'm late for work!)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As usual I own nothing.**_

-o-O-o-

It took half an hour for him to realise something was wrong. The vodka had not been vodka, and he shouldn't have ignored it. Already his thinking felt fuzzy and he knew his reflexes were slower than they should be. He didn't need the two fingers on his wrist to tell that his pulse was slowing down.

Silently, he kicked himself for accepting a drink from a criminal who he _knew_ had motivation to drug him, and stepped away from Markovic.

"I've got to meet my students," he said, unsure and uncaring of whether Markovic had heard him over the music.

He stumbled outside and saw his students, amid a crowd of people waiting for taxis. A few of them had failed their tasks, but most had succeeded. Now, they simply had to work the brush off without seeming suspicious.

Adán was having difficulties, with a girl pawing at either side of him and a guy kissing the back of his neck, but he scribbled a number – fake, Alex hoped – onto various body parts and stormed over to Sasha.

Alex barely heard the snarled "Get away from my sister!" before David had appeared by his side.

"Sir, are you okay?" he asked, frowning.

"Why wouldn't I be?" snarked Alex, turning away roughly.

"Your hand is shaking, your pupils are dilated and you look as though you're about to pass out," listed David. "Sir, I think you've been drugged."

"I know," scowled Alex, before forcibly reigning himself back in. "I'll be fine, David. Make sure everyone gets back to school."

He signalled the next taxi that went past and slid gratefully into the back seat. He should be able to get back to his room now. He was fine.

He never saw the surprised, cautious, angry face watching him leave.

-o-O-o-

David frowned. The rest of the class was gratefully asleep, but he couldn't shake that nagging worry. His instructors had always said he was too emotive – cocky, arrogant and far too quick to smile – but in this case he was glad.

He knew he shouldn't get attached to a teacher – most of them would kill their students without a thought if given a reason – but something told him that Thanatos had once been different, and he couldn't help it.

And someone had drugged him.

More than that, someone had drugged him for a reason, but not bothered to follow him out of the club, which probably meant they were reasonably certain they could catch up with him later. They also had known enough not to try anything when he was only partially incapacitated.

David scowled and slipped out of bed. He quickly pulled on trousers and a hoody before heading out of the building.

Silently, he flitted across the shadowy lawn, until he saw the teachers' cottages among the bushes. He knew which Thanatos was in from process of elimination, and wasted no time in letting himself in.

Normally, he was sure, breaking a window would have woken up the renowned assassin, but with however many drugs working their way through his system, he was sure to be dead to the world.

David thoughtfully cleaned the broken glass off the desk, then settled on the couch to wait.

He didn't have to wait long. Barely twenty minutes later, he heard a key in the lock, and the headmaster let himself into the living room.

"Petrov," said the man, stopping in surprise. "Why aren't you in bed?"

Something told David that 'because you want to rape my teacher' wouldn't go down well.

"Screwed up an assignment, sir. Thanatos asked me to have an essay done for him first thing. Said I could write it in here – it's comfier than my dorm with everyone bitching at me for having a light on."

"And where's the essay?" asked Markovic with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah… the dog ate it?" tried David with a winning smile, before grudgingly crossing to the desk and grabbing paper and a pen that had been lying there. "I'll get right on it, sir," he said with a sigh.

"See that you do," said Markovic, before swiftly leaving the building, though not before casting one last regretful look at Thanatos' door.

As the door finally clicked shut, David let out a sigh of relief. That had been close.

-o-O-o-

There is just one issue with standing guard, when outside threats are, most likely, dealt with and the person you're protecting is safely asleep: it's _boring_. David, being a decidedly impatient teenager, discovered this pretty quickly. He was desperate to go to sleep, but knew that that would completely defeat the purpose of being there.

And so, he did what every self-respecting teenager would do: explored.

Normally, he supposed, searching a teachers room would be interesting because of the view into their private eyes, but with an assassin for an instructor, 'interesting' took on an entirely new aspect.

For a start, almost everything was booby trapped, as he discovered after attempting to fix himself coffee in the small kitchenette in the corner. (He knew he'd never look at a tea strainer in the same way again.)

After taping up his probably-broken fingers with a first aid kit he found under the sofa – thankfully, not booby trapped. He guessed even paranoid assassins recognised the good sense of having an easily accessible first aid kit – he turned his attention to the living room, sans coffee.

Something told him that trying to gain access to the bag resting in the corner, or the desk drawers would end badly for him, so he resigned himself to simply rooting his way through the papers scattered over the surface of the desk.

Christ, apparently Thanatos had _no_ organisational skills whatsoever. It was just one massive pile. _Either that,_ whispered the paranoid part of his mind, _or it's deliberate – he knows where everything is and will _know_ if you've tampered with it._

David paled slightly, but there was no point in stopping now; he was already down to the second layer.

It was almost like panning for gold, he mused, carefully shifting the sheets aside. There was a lot of sand – essays, class plans, scraps of paper with doodles on them (And Christ, David kept forgetting that Thanatos probably wasn't that much older than them), grocery lists (oh! They liked the same brand of coffee. That just made the Tea Strainer Incident even more annoying. And _why_ had he bought bananas? Ew.) – and not much gold. In fact, by the time he had been digging for twenty minutes, he hadn't found so much as one flake. He was just about to give up when his hand brushed against cardboard at the bottom of the pile.

Gingerly, as if the entire pile could collapse and bury him, he extracted the files and looked them over.

He quickly realised that they were in code and, judging from the notes stuck around them, that Thanatos had been attempting to decipher them. Obviously, they weren't his then.

Well, thought David as he settled back down on the sofa with them. At least it'd give him something to do.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? I'll update after the weekend. I love you all. Please review and let me know that you love me too! (Or let me know that you hate me. Just, you know. Let me know! :P )**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: So, I meant to update yesterday, but I spent all day in bed with a migraine, which wasn't fun. And I'm updating today, aren't I? I plan to update every weekend, if I can, unless I update during the week instead.**_

… _**Essentially, I'll be updating once a week, or there abouts.**_

_**Now, because I know you're all desperate to find out what happens, onto the story!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex woke to the sun through his window and a killer headache. For a moment, he lay there, trying to remember how his limbs operated, before finally trying to sit up. He managed it on the third attempt and swung his legs out of bed before fumbling for the pain killers in the draw next to the bed.

Even that small movement managed to send fresh bullets of pain lancing through his head and he had to force himself to take several deep breaths until it passed.

He swallowed two of the small white pills dry, and patiently waited for his memories to return to him. When they did, he groaned audibly and levered himself out of bed.

Today was not going to be fun.

He stumbled through to the living room, his usual grace barely discernible in the erratic movements, only to be brought up short at the sight of one of his students passed out on his sofa.

The sun was brighter in here, with wall-to-wall full length, bullet-proof, windows on two sides, and it had ghosted across David's pale features, turning his blond hair golden and casting shadows that made him seem younger than he had ever acted.

Alex sighed and nudged the kid's shoulder with his knee.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, wearily, as David rolled over with a groan.

"I didn't want you to get raped," yawned the teenager, before blinking and shaking his head slightly. "Er… sorry sir," he said, obviously not having intended to say that.

"While I appreciate the thought," commented Alex wryly, "I'm slightly confused as to why you thought it was necessary."

David pouted slightly. "Someone drugged you, but didn't follow up on it. I thought it might mean they knew where you slept."

"They wouldn't have been able to get into my room anyway, David," commented Alex, wryly. "I have a bit more security than that, don't worry."

David frowned. "Okay," he said, not entirely convinced. "If you say so."

"I do say so," said Alex, rolling his eyes. "What excuse did you give Markovic?"

"I- Wait. How did you know it was Markovic?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm not an idiot. What did you tell him?"

"That I was working on an essay for you. He left after that."

"This would be the three page essay for asking why Markovic was staring at my arse? How is it going?"

"Err, about that," began David, running a hand through his hair." I mean, what with the assignment last night and-"

"David," interrupted Alex.

"Yessir?"

"Ignoring, for the moment, that you didn't finish the essay, would you care to explain what happened to your hand?" asked Alex, slightly exasperatedly.

"I… might have had a run in with your tea strainer while trying to fix myself coffee?" said David, self-depreciatingly.

"And you're the best in the class?" muttered Alex. "Remind me to add spotting traps to our lesson plans. Didn't your old teachers teach you anything?"

David shifted guiltily and hid his hand behind his back, despite knowing it was too late to avoid the unwanted attention.

"It's far too late for that," snapped Thanatos, impatiently. "Let me take a look."

David sighed and held out the injured appendage patiently. Next time, he would remember that his teacher was a bloody assassin and avoid all of this.

He winced slightly, as Thanatos roughly pulled off the quick dressing he had applied and inspected the wound.

"Good," muttered the blond. "You avoided the poison, at least. Bandage that up then go to breakfast. _Don't_ go rooting through any more cupboards. Tea strainers will be the least of your worries."

"Yessir," mumbled David, quickly re-wrapping the wound.

"I want you gone by the time I get out of the shower," snapped the assassin, before heading back towards the bedroom.

-o-O-o-

David slunk into breakfast late. He'd had to go back to the dorm to stash the stolen files under his mattress – not the best hiding place, but one so obvious most people didn't bother to check it. Thankfully, the meal wasn't formal, so no-one took note of it. Thanatos, as usual, wasn't there. That kid Matt was, had managed to arrive after him, in fact. From his sloppy state of dress, David would guess he over slept. He wasn't all that interested. The 6th years only took note of the kid at all because Thanatos had picked him out. They were all waiting for some sign of genius, but so far were disappointed.

The kid was about to sit at the last empty table, noted David with a scowl.

Quickly, he strode up behind the runt, just as he sat down.

"Move," he growled, gratified when the kid whipped around, terrified.

In fact, the kid was halfway out of his seat when something changed in his face.

"No," he said, deliberately sitting back down.

"No?" asked David.

"No," repeated the brat. "I'm sick of being expected to leap when you say leap. You and your class are just students, like the rest of us and you have _no_ right to order us around as if we were your personal slaves!"

David snapped.

"Listen, you little brat," he snarled, grabbing Matt by the collar. "I have had the _shitiest_ week. I am running on about two hours of sleep and I just want a peaceful breakfast. _A kid like you will not stop me._ Capiche?"

The kid nodded, and David dropped him.

"Good. Now get out of here."

"You know, you _can_ have a peaceful breakfast with me sitting here. I'm hardly likely to actually talk to you."

David paused and turned to him incredulously, then, miraculously, he began to laugh. "God, kid. I'll admit you've got guts. Sit down, then. But just keep it down, okay?"

Matt nodded. Then proceeded to ignore the older kid and dig into his breakfast.

Thanatos had been confusing him lately.

Sure, he was still acting the heartless assassin, but Matt was getting the feeling that it was more and more 'act' and less and less 'heartless'.

The two had a tutor meeting – or one of the weird equivalents that this school had – later. He'd suss out any changes then.

After all, his life was dependent on the assassin. If something went wrong with him, everything would go wrong for Matt.

-o-O-o-

Markovic scowled at his paperwork. He would never say that he didn't enjoy running the school – the money was good, he received a large amount of respect from the criminal community and even the occasional teacher like Thanatos, or whatever his real name was, who was absolutely gorgeous – but he could definitely do without the paperwork.

He wasn't even sure how a school like this one even _generated_ paperwork, seeing as ninety percent of what they did was illegal, but teachers still had to be paid, the government funding that they received, which always made Markovic laugh at the irony, needed to be accounted for, and they still registered students for national exams, albeit not always the Russian ones.

Thanatos was not making it any easier for him. There was no doubt that the assassin was an excellent teacher, but he had failed to complete a single piece of administrative work since he had been here! It was enough to make Markovic scream.

The door was pushed open and Markovic glanced up.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," he muttered, as he saw Thanatos standing at his door. It figures that the assassin wouldn't knock.

"What do you want?" he asked, peevishly, as he felt his heart-rate speed up. This… _thing _he had for the blond was really starting to irritate him. The man was wild and unruly, a brilliant assassin but, in reality, far too young to want to teach, long-term. He was too damn mysterious to be an employee as well.

Unfortunately for Markovic, the exact same things that made Thanatos an appalling employee, made Markovic want to pin the blond to the bed and make him moan.

It didn't help that the man _knew_ how Markovic felt and hadn't reacted for _or_ against the idea, leaving the headmaster to guess.

"I think we have a slight problem," said Thanatos, lowly.

"And what would this be?" asked Markovic, curiously, pushing the paperwork aside.

There was a blur of movement and something grabbed him. The next thing he knew he was pinned to the desk with a knife at his throat.

"The _problem_," hissed Thantos, "is that you think that you can get away with _drugging_ me."

"_What?!"_ exclaimed Markovic. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Markovic. You handed me the bloody drink!"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about!" said Markovic, desperately. The knife was really rather sharp, and he knew he didn't stand a chance against the enraged assassin inches from his face.

"You've got the motivation," snarled Thanatos.

"Yeah, but I'd never _drug_ you to sleep with you! _Jesus!_"

Thanatos frowned and removed the knife, stepping back just enough for Markovic to relax slightly.

"Then who did?"

"How should I know?" scowled the man.

"You showed up in my room."

"I was _worried_. I thought you were _ill, _for fucks sake! And another thing, why the _hell_ was a student in your room? I know you seem to be Mr Popularity among the students, but even you can see that that's not appropriate, surely?"

Alex ran a hand through his hair, thinking furiously. "I was unconscious at the time. The kid broke my window, and got a flesh wound and two broken fingers for his trouble," he explained.

For some reason, he actually believed Markovic. The man had seemed too surprised, too scared for it to have been him, and with his Russian accent becoming stronger and stronger, Alex was sure it wasn't an act.

"Don't mention this to anyone," he warned, sheathing the knife. "_Shit._"

"Don't you have class right now?"

Thanatos snarled at him and stalked out.

Markovic settled down in his chair to think.

If nothing else, that little episode had put pay to his… little problem with Thanatos. He couldn't see the man _ever_ submitting to someone else and Markovic did _not_ bottom.

On the other hand, if someone had it out for one of his teachers, things in the school could become complicated, fast. He had every faith that Thanatos could look after himself, but if he didn't, Markovic had a feeling that he would drag them all down with him.

"Chyort voz'mi," he cursed.

-o-O-o-

_**So, hands up. Who thought Markovic had drugged Alex? (I don't blame you. Until I was 900 words into the chapter, I thought he had to. I understand muses like to inspire authors to write amazing plot twists, but shouldn't they actually tell them what the plot twists are, ahead of time? Honestly!)**_

_**Anyway, review and tell me what you thought! And next chapter, we should be seeing a bit more of his class. **_


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: So I know I haven't replied to all of your reviews just yet, but I thought you would prefer to have another chapter now than to wait for another day, when it was already written. And I have some good news! Thanks to a rather long train journey, I now have up to Chapter 19 written. This means that, to make up for not posting last weekend, I'll be updating on Thursday as well. And then on Sunday as per usual. Or, well, what I intend to be usual. I've not actually stuck with it long enough for it to actually be usual yet.**_

_**Also, there's a rather nasty cliffhanger on this chapter, so I think you'd all kill me if I made you wait a week!**_

_**And now onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex felt decidedly moody as he slunk into his classroom. It was something he hadn't felt since he was a teenager, and he was rather hoping he had outgrown it, but no such luck. He braced himself against the desk for a moment and forcibly turned his expression to 'impassive'.

"Good afternoon, class," he said, calmly. "I trust you all had a good night's sleep? Put the mirror away, Sasha. I really don't think you need any more make-up."

Sasha glared at him and tucked an apparently misplaced strand of hair behind her ear, then obediently slipped the mirror into her bag. Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't that the girl was vain, exactly. She simply saw no reason not to look her best when she could. Most likely, she saw her looks as a weapon, although she hadn't used them to the same extent as Adán had apparently decided to.

"Anyone who failed there assignment needs to arrange a time to meet with me outside of class, and Adán, I want you to go and see Madame Leclair after lessons today."

"What? Why?"

"You're getting tested for STIs," said Alex, grimly.

"Sir, that's completely unfair!" protested Ciro.

"Don't push it, Ciro," snapped Alex. "If I hear another word on the subject, you'll be going with him!"

The twins glared at him, but faded into disgruntled silence.

Alex wondered if all teenagers glared this much, or just sleep-deprived trainee assassins and turned to close the door, only to pause and grab the sleeve of a passing student.

"Sir?" asked Matt, confused.

"We're delaying our meeting tonight," Alex said curtly. "I'm afraid something's come up."

_Too right something has come up_, he grimaced. _I need to work out who spiked my drink and how the hell they did it._

"Why, sir?" asked Matt, frowning.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," said Alex. "Now get to your classes."

Matt turned to leave, when Alex tensed. Something was wrong. He turned his head, like a dog casting for a scent but unable to find it.

What was wrong?

A flash outside of the window, and he knew. He shoved Matt sideways, both of them falling to the ground behind the teacher's desk, just as the window shattered and a bullet buried itself in the wall above his head.

There was a sniper outside the window.

"Shit," he cursed. "Everyone get down! Make sure you're not visible from the window."

He peered around the desk and almost immediately felt the shockwave from a speeding bullet clip his ear. He cursed again, under his breath and pulled quickly back.

He rolled onto his stomach, away from the window, and began to crawl towards it. If he could just get the blind shut, they would no longer be sitting ducks.

Well, unless the sniper had a heat sensor, but Alex didn't think that that was likely. They were expensive and hard to get hold of and, most of the time, unnecessary.

Inch by inch, he crept closer to the window, keeping against the wall as much as possible. David was looking at him with what appeared to be genuine concern.

Alex ignored him, and completed his journey, stopping with his back against the wall, directly beside the window.

"Sasha," he began in a low voice that nonetheless carried across the classroom. "Please could I borrow your mirror? Just slide it across the floor."

The girl nodded silently and reached one hand into her bag, quickly locating the required object and passing it to her teacher.

Alex nodded his gratitude and carefully held the mirror up.

There weren't many places to provide cover around the school, surrounded as it was by fields. Whether this was because of paranoia or lucky coincidence, Alex wasn't sure, but it did make this easier. It took him only a moment to confirm that the roofs of the teachers' cottages were clear, and he swept the mirror left over the grounds. The mirror smashed.

Alex snarled wordlessly as the glass scratched at his hand and pulled down the blind. He probably should replace the mirror, but he'd done what he'd needed to. The sniper was hiding in the tree line.

"Stay here," he snapped at his class, before bolting out of the door.

-o-O-o-

Alex deliberately slowed his breathing as he stalked around the school, pushing himself into the frame of mind when he was more instinct than thought. He hadn't wanted to come at the trees straight on, knowing it would lead to a bullet in the brain, but he was also aware that the sniper would probably have moved as soon as the blind had been closed, and his chance at shooting Alex was over.

Even as he registered every detail of his surroundings, he mentally retreated to consider the facts.

The sniper, whoever he or she was, was good. They had balance enough to set up a sniper's nest in a tree, and were skilled enough to slip onto the grounds without discovery. They were also, probably, subtle enough to spike Alex's drink without either himself or Markovic noticing them. Although why they hadn't simply poisoned him when they had had the chance, Alex didn't know. But they hadn't been trained as a sniper. Even if the bullets hadn't been meant to kill him – and Alex was increasingly sure that they hadn't – there were better positions to choose than this one, to the trained eye, and ways to avoid detection from the mirror. Even the time between the bullets spoke of in experience and that none of them had come close enough to really threaten Alex, save one, which Alex was inclined to think of as a fluke.

So, military training, or something similar, but no sniper training. His opponent would probably prefer close combat or handguns.

Alex nodded to himself and sped up his pace. The hunt was on.

-o-O-o-

David pushed away the urge to panic and looked around the classroom. Four years, he had been here, and yet somehow no one had explained to him the danger inherent in the job. Of course he wasn't an idiot, he'd known that people would try to kill him, but this was the first time that the class had really come face to face with it.

None, he noted, were looking surprised. A few were looking shaken, but Aimi was apparently completely unaffected. Already she was pulling herself out from underneath the desk and getting ready to take charge.

"Everyone up," she said, her voice quiet. "Matvey Sarov, isn't it?" she asked the boy still lying by the door. He nodded. "Get to class. No reason for you to get dragged into this. Sasha, could you fetch Markovic? David-"

"Don't even think about it, Aimi," he muttered. "I'm going after Thanatos."

"Well shouldn't you already be _gone_ then? Jesus."

David glared at her and stalked out of the room.

-o-O-o-

Alex resisted the urge to growl in irritation. He _knew_ that the sniper was close. He had to be. No one in their right mind would risk crossing the lawn, and the only other option was away from the school. A sniper may have, but something told Alex that this opponent wasn't going to.

There was a rustle to his left, and Alex spun, his gun extended ahead of him, just as a figure emerged from the bushes.

"David," he sighed, lowering the gun in exasperation.

"Sir," choked David, and Alex frowned. There was something wrong. David was too stiff, and he hadn't moved away from the bushes. "Sir, I'm really sorry."

"Sorry for what?" began Alex, only to be cut off as David stepped forward.

There was a gun held to his head, and a man right behind him.

-o-O-o-

_**So, what do you think? Is this the end of David Petrov? Is the sniper the same person who spiked Alex's drink? Who is the sniper, anyway? Let me know what you think – whoever guesses right gets virtual cookies!**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: See? It's not even half seven on Thursday morning and I'm updating! Actually, I'm also starving, so I'm going to grab breakfast after this. Cheerios, yay! Complete win for the alarm this morning – it woke me up with Pearl Jam, while ending a dream in which I was about to have penicillin injected into my ear with a foot long needle that would no doubt have gone right through my head. Pleasant, huh?**_

_**Anyway, onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**WARNINGS: Gore, references to non-con.**_

-o-O-o-

"Let him go," said Alex, his voice deadly.

"Oh, Alex. Alex, Alex, Alex. Why would I want to do that? I think I've got you right where I want you," smiled the man, and Alex frowned. He knew that voice.

"Don't remember me, Alex? I should be insulted. I made you what you are!"

"I hardly think that that's cause for celebration," said Alex, dryly. On the outside, he might appear calm, but his thoughts were racing. He _knew _that he'd heard that voice before, but he could have sworn he had never seen the man before. Unless he'd had his face changed… Alex frowned as thoughts floated on the edge of his consciousness.

"And who is this delightful boy?" asked the man. "Cuter than you were at his age, but I'll admit your arse was just delicious."

And suddenly everything snapped into place.

"Wilson," he spat. "Let. Him. Go."

"Ah, no. I don't think so," said Wilson, grinning in that same sadistic smile that Alex hated. "You're going to come with me and… answer a few questions. The kid will be coming along to ensure your good behaviour. I think he'll work even better than your little soldier."

Alex carefully kept his face blank, ignoring the allusion to James. He'd already played his hand by demanding David's release immediately – feigning indifference wouldn't work now. But, he could get Wilson angry. Wilson had made mistakes before because of desire, and he'd been treated as if his anger was even more of a liability.

"You know, I think he'll look even better on his knees that you did," murmured Wilson, running the gun softly down David's sheet-white cheek.

Alex smirked. "If I remember, you had me chained to the floor, had a hostage and were armed, and I still beat you up and escaped."

Wilson snarled. "You were _shaking_," he spat.

"Mmm," murmured Alex noncommittally. "Personally, I thought you looked better with mush for a face. Is that why you've had the work done? Were you feeling self-conscious?"

Wilson growled.

"You know, I'm quite impressed, actually," continued Alex, blithely. "I wasn't sure you _could_ look worse than you used to, but boy did you prove me wrong!"

He had kept careful note of the fingers tightening on the gun and of the way Wilson's attention slowly wavered from David to rest solely on Alex.

Then David moved. Wilson was suddenly doubled over with an elbow in his stomach. David wrapped an arm around his hips and threw him over his shoulder.

Wilson immediately began to roll up, but Alex was there with a boot in his chest and a gun in his face.

"Drop the gun," he commanded, softly, and David froze when he noticed the red dot on his chest. Thanatos moved in front of it.

"You don't want me dead, or you would have simply poisoned me in the club," said the assassin. "Therefore, you're not going to shoot me. Now. Drop the gun."

He dropped the gun, and David breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nice work," commented his teacher, but David didn't glance at his teacher at the approval, instead keeping his eyes focused on the attacker.

"What shall we do with him, sir?" he asked.

"_We_ shall do nothing," said Alex firmly. "I do need to ask him some questions, though, so…" he trailed off and looked down at Wilson, lying perfectly still on the floor. After a moment, he callously lifted a boot and brought it down on the man's face. He was unconscious within moments.

-o-O-o-

Markovic was about to find something to hit when Thanatos arrived back through the door. Despite fetching him, which was perfectly responsible, given the multiple bullet holes in the room, the class had proved reluctant to give him any details at all. Partly, he thought, it was that they didn't know much, but despite that, he thought they didn't want to risk Thanatos' anger or, possibly, disappointment.

"Finally," snarled the Headmaster as the wayward teacher came back in through the door. "_What_ happened, Thanatos?"

"Someone tried to kill me," said the assassin calmly. "Can I use one of the interrogation rooms in the basement?"

Markovic opened his mouth to ask exactly _how_ Thanatos knew about the rooms, then promptly shut it again. He had finally noticed the dark shape slumped in the corridor. "We do have some cells in one of the outhouses," he suggested. "Why do you need an interrogation room?"

"Because I plan to interrogate him," said Thanatos, coldly. "I need to know why he was trying to kill me."

"You don't know?" asked Markovic, blinking rapidly.

"Not yet," he said, calmly. "Is Room 5 free?"

At Markovic's confirmation, Alex stalked out. In the corridor, he nodded to the unusually silent David and once again threw Wilson over his shoulder.

"Sir," began David, quietly. "Why did you lie to Mr Markovic?"

"Hmm?"

"I heard you, in the classroom. Why did you say he was trying to kill you, when he wanted answers?"

"Because I want answers myself before I pass anything on," said Alex, calmly. He wondered if he should send the kid away, but he was still pale, and Alex would bet that it was only a large amount of effort that had stopped the shaking.

He tied the still-unconscious Wilson to the metal chair in the middle of the room and turned to the teen.

"Are you okay?" he asked seriously.

"Of course!" said David. "I'm fine. He didn't even hurt me."

"David," reprimanded Alex. "That's not what I meant."

David looked away, before apparently forcing himself to meet his teacher's gaze. "I figured it was just part of the job," he said, quietly and Alex grimaced.

"It is," he admitted. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

David nodded silently, looking thoughtful. "I'll cope," he said finally and Alex nodded.

"Good. I would also… appreciate it, if you kept to yourself what you learnt out there."

"Your name?" asked David, with a blink. "Sure. I'm not exactly eager to announce that I got taken as a hostage, you know," he admitted with a grimace.

Alex nodded. "Thank you. Now, get out of here. I don't think you need to see the rest of this."

David began to move, then hesitated. "Sir, we are going to have to learn interrogation eventually, you know. Our other teachers taught us some of it."

Alex grunted. "You're sure you want to stay?"

David glanced at the man in the chair, then nodded.

"Okay," said Alex. "Fetch me a bucket of cold water."

-o-O-o-

Wilsom woke up with a gasp that had him choking on water. Alex watched dispassionately until the man calmed slightly and took notice of his surroundings. David was out of his line of vision, behind him, but it took barely a moment for him to focus on Alex.

"You're going to tell me three things," said Alex, softly. "And then this will be over. You are going to tell me how you found me, what information you wanted from me, and who you're working with. I hate to be stereotypical, but we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either way you will talk."

"Fuck you, Rider," snarled the man.

"You tried that," said Alex, calmly. "It didn't end well for you, if you recall."

The man snarled and strained against his bonds, but it was no good; Alex had had long years to practice restraining people.

The blond calmly hefted a pair of heavy bolt cutters. "Last chance for the easy way," he said.

Wilson sneered and remained silent.

"Very well," said Alex and in a move that almost blurred from speed, brought the bolt cutters around to Wilson's foot. There was a sickening crunch, a spurt of blood and a long, drawn out wail of hysterical pain, and then Wilson's toe fell to the floor. Alex glanced at it for a moment and grimaced, before kicking it to the side of the room.

"Are you ready to talk yet?"

-o-O-o-

_**So, anyone having trouble remembering Wilson, he was the landlord in Past of Shadows and Shadow of a Doubt. Am I going to get a load of complaints about Alex torturing someone?**_

_**Anyway, tell me what you thought?**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: So it's a day late, but considering it's not even 8AM yet, I'm sure you'll forgive me.**_

_**I'm glad to note that only one person had a problem with Alex torturing Wilson. A lot of you, said it was obvious that he would have to. A few of you said that Wilson deserved it, after Shadow of a Doubt. I'm not saying he doesn't, but will admit to getting slightly freaked out by this. Remind me never to piss any of you off.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex looked up as the first of his students walked in. He had decided, after seeing David's reaction to the day's events, that he could do with knowing a little more about the kids he was meant to be teaching.

"Madrid," he greeted, calmly, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

"Sir," said the boy nervously. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," said Alex, looking at the youngest member of his class. "You're not."

The kid glanced up at him, then back at the desk and Alex supressed a sigh. Madrid had only been moved up a class recently, and Alex wasn't sure he was ready for it.

"Would you like to tell me what happened at the club?" he asked, remembering that he had been one of the ones to get kicked out.

Madrid winced and looked up. "You're moving me back down, aren't you, sir?" he asked, resignedly.

Alex contemplated him for a moment then decided to answer honestly. "I'm considering it. It's not that you don't have the talent or the ability," he said, "but I'm not sure that you're practiced enough with it yet. You need more confidence in your skills. And we're about to start a section that could very easily get you killed if you screw up."

Madrid nodded and sighed. As he left, Alex wondered if all of them were going to be that easy.

They weren't.

Irryn, a coldly beautiful, intelligent girl, was distinctly unsuited for life as an assassin. She had kept up so far through being smarter than a lot of people realised and through sheer bloody determination. She knew what happened to those who didn't make it and had absolutely no desire to join them.

"Look," snapped Alex, finally. "I _know_ you don't want to be here. I _know_ that every violent lesson we have makes your skin crawl. What I don't know is why the hell you came here in the first place!"

Irryn regarded him for a moment, then leaned back, the image of upper-class restraint. "My parents didn't agree with women being educated," she explained, eventually. "According to them, I should have studied poetry and music and cooking and then found a nice, rich husband to keep house for and support unwaveringly. I decided that wasn't for me and came to the school that offered the best education in this continent."

Alex sighed. The girl would never make it as an assassin. Neither would she be any good at gathering intelligence. But she was brilliant at strategy and in her normal subjects, according to the reports he had in front of him. It would be a waste for her to be killed off as 'not good enough'.

"I'm going to talk to some people," he said wearily. "You're no good as an assassin, but I think I know someone who would love to have the help of someone as smart as you."

For the first time that Alex could remember, Irryn smiled.

Aimi's interview went by without a hitch. The girl was apparently becoming quite a leader, now that David had distanced himself from the class. Alex couldn't say he was all that surprised. The girl was strong and logical and didn't panic. All three qualities would serve her well in her new role.

Adán and Ciro turned up together, and Alex ended up throwing them out after barely a minute. Apparently neither of them had taken kindly to his instruction earlier. He wasn't overly bothered. He already had the two of them figured out.

He scowled, as he watched them dart down the corridor and turned towards the common room for the lower years. He guessed it was time he had a conversation with Matt after all.

-o-O-o-

David breathed deeply, trying to replace the memory of blood still clinging to his nose with the smell of damp slate and fresh air. He had come up to the roof of the building to think. A broken latch in the dormitory and a careful exploration of the wall above it had revealed a handhold that a daring teen could grab and use to swing himself up onto the roof. He was by no means the only person to find their way up here, but he was fairly sure that they had all found their own route, and all respected that you came up here to be alone, not to talk to other people.

And anyway, they were all at dinner now.

The thought of food made his stomach churn uncomfortably, and he reluctantly turned his thoughts to what he had come up here to think about.

Thanatos had been… ruthless.

Within half an hour, the target had been reduced from defiance to tears and begging. Half an hour after that, he had broken completely.

He was working for a group of criminal organisations known as the Coalition. They'd wanted information on the school, but it was low priority. The target had been working alone, and had not been ordered to abduct Thanatos. That had been down to the personal grudge that he had held against the assassin.

And that brought David face to face with the other things that had come to light.

Thanatos had once been known as Alex Rider. He had been abused and blackmailed by MI6. _MI6_. Even the name brought David out in goosebumps. It had been drilled into their heads that once a national secret service knew their name or their face, they would never be able to rest again. That they would know so much about his teacher was not something David liked to think about.

It had also made him think about the files stashed in his room.

If what they had said was true, then he was going to have to have a lot more contact with the intelligence agencies than he was comfortable with. And he couldn't help but wonder who Thanatos was working for, and why he had stolen the files.

David knew that the school was known as a place to get information, traded carefully through several front men so that no-one knew exactly who the information came from. It was also known as somewhere that produced skilled operatives. Either of these reasons could make any number of people interested in the school and they could easily have employed Thanatos to find out more information.

For David, it meant one very obvious thing. At some point, Thanatos would be forced to act against the school, and David would have to choose where his loyalty lay: the school that had made him who he was, or the man who had moved in front of a loaded gun for him.

David scowled and moved to go back inside. He didn't know who he would choose yet, but he was fairly sure that the key to his decision lay in those files. He would finish decoding them, and see what they meant for his future at the school. Only an idiot made a decision with half of the information.

-o-O-o-

Alex frowned and idly tapped a finger on the table in front of him. The meeting with Matt had not gone well. In fact, it had gone incredibly badly. The boy had been stiff and formal, wanting to talk only about his studies, which were going well enough that he was finally beginning to fit in, but not well enough for Alex to be remotely impressed. When Alex had told him so, Matt had flipped. He had begun yelling that he didn't care how he was doing in the classes, that he wasn't meant to be going to this school.

Alex had pinned him to the wall and slammed a hand over his mouth at that point.

"Do you _want_ to get us both killed?" he had hissed and the boy had gone wide-eyed, falling swiftly into terrified silence.

And Alex had begun to think. The kid wanted to go home. That much was obvious. Alex couldn't even blame him for it – it was obvious that the kid's parents loved him, although Alex still didn't understand how they had let him go on a mission for MI6.

But more than that, the kid was scared. Scared of Alex, and scared of what it would mean that Alex had begun teaching his students as if he wanted them to be successful operatives. If Alex turned against him, after all, Matt would never get home and would most likely die out here without his parents ever knowing why.

And then Alex had felt _guilty_. He had forgotten why he was here. He had allowed himself to pretend that he was just here as a teacher. He'd kept himself aloof from the teachers, but he'd invested in the students, and wanted them to succeed. He'd not touched the files he had taken in far too long, and hadn't gone looking for more information since his disastrous encounter with Markovic. He was getting comfortable here, and he couldn't afford to.

What was more, Matt obviously thought that Alex would sell him out in a heartbeat. Admittedly, Alex had done everything possible to give the kid that impression, but now it just wasn't true.

He had sent the kid on his way with a soft sigh and even softer words.

"I'll get you home, Matt. I promise."

And now he sat brooding in the darkened class room.

Well, brooding wouldn't help anyone. The files were buried under piles of marking on his desk. It was probably about time that he dug them out and had another look at them.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**Review and tell me what you thought? **_


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: Wow. Really, wow. I realised last night that there are only two chapters and an epilogue left of this. I can't quite believe it. I think I'll wait a bit before posting the sequel, I'm afraid. I'll at least finish posting From Failing Hands and try to get a bit further on with Dulce et Decorum. (Which would be a lot easier if I had a cohesive plot for it. At the moment I have a whole load of plot threads that I really like, but nothing to actually weave them together with. It's not abandoned though! Simply… a little lost.)**_

_**I'm afraid there isn't much of your favourite characters in this chapter, but they'll all be back next time, I promise! (With the exception of Yuri, Tom, K-Unit etc. Sorry about how little they've been in this story…)**_

_**Also, I'm sorry that I haven't finished replying to the reviews yet, but once again I figured you would prefer the new chapter!**_

_**Now, onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**WARNINGS: Reference to torture. Description of the effects of the torture.**_

-o-O-o-

There was just one problem with his plan to take another look at the files. One tiny, little, unassailable problem. They weren't there.

The desk had been hastily cleared of papers, every pile searched thoroughly and then searched again. The outcome was his paperwork being probably the most organised it ever had been, and no files.

Alex glared balefully at the empty desk, as if his will alone could make the files reappear, then groaned and sank his head into his hands. He needed to think.

No-one could have gotten in here without him knowing about it. Even if he wasn't in, there were various tactics he had used – threads resting on door handles, small piles of bits of dark paper – that would have been disturbed, and he would have noticed. Which left two people: Markovic and David.

If it was Markovic, then no doubt someone would have tried to kill him already. Well, someone _had_, but he knew that that hadn't had anything to do with Markovic. Well, was fairly sure, at least.

Which left David. Damn. It probably would have been simpler if it _had_ been Markovic who had taken the files. At least then he wouldn't have to worry about the man telling someone else. He would just kill him. Maybe with a few questions first, but death would no doubt be quick. Markovic, at least judging from his reaction to Alex's request for an interrogation room, wasn't someone who enjoyed torture.

Alex sighed. He would need to confront David about the files, but now was not the time – there would be too many people around. What he would do would be purely based on David's response. He didn't _want_ to arrange for an accident, but he knew that he might not have a choice. He could not afford to leave himself open to that kind of vulnerability.

He just had to get David on his own, first.

-o-O-o-

Markovic stepped through the door into interrogation room 5 and closed it carefully behind him. Thanatos had told him that the man had been seeking information on the school, and Markovic had decided to come and see for himself. Immediately, he could tell that the man was broken. What little sanity he had had before – and Markovic was willing to admit that he must have had some, to be sent on a mission – had been drowned out by pain. All that was left was a deep pit of anger, hatred and obsession, feeding on itself until what was left could barely be called a man.

And the metaphor held up physically, noted Markovic, a snake of disdain uncoiling in his abdomen. He could clearly see where a toe had been cut off and the wound cauterised. He could easily imagine how the man would have gone from caustic defiance to gibbers of pain. One arm, tied firmly to the arm of the chair, looked as if a mad surgeon had tried to dissect it. He could see the skin hanging down in strips, a small, bloody pile next the chair was probably muscle, he decided without deigning to look too closely, and the gleaming white he could see was almost certainly bone and ligaments and tendons.

Well, no-one had said that Thanatos was ever less than thorough. The psychological effect of having one's body taken apart piece by piece would probably have been equal to, if not exceeded, the pain.

That stirred a memory in him, a spree on murders that had had everyone on edge, both from their brutality and the way the perpetrator had apparently effortlessly evaded capture. No one had been able to place a pattern on the victims, and everyone had lain low, until the murders had stopped. Markovic brushed the thought aside. He might not know Thanatos' exact age, but he would have been just a child, surely, when the murders were committed. Calmly, he turned back to the room.

With a faint stir of professional approval, he noted the needle lying in a corner of the room. At least Thanatos had known better than to allow shock and pain to carry off his victim into unconsciousness. He'd failed to tidy up after himself, though, frowned Markovic, and he made a mental note to remind the teacher later. They could hardly ask the cleaners they employed upstairs to come down here.

Finally, he turned his attention to the remains of the man sitting in the chair.

"Thanatos tells me that you were looking for information on my school," he began coldly. "I want to know what you found out and who you passed it on to."

"That fucking _brat_," snarled the man. "I should have had him in his fucking _squat_. I-"

Markovic raised an eyebrow, and wondered momentarily if the man was talking about David, who he knew had been here despite how much he disapproved of it. But no, he realised, as the man continued ranting. He meant Thanatos. Apparently, the two of them had a history together. Judging from the perverted and probably not anatomically possible things coming out of his partially-burned mouth, Markovic was inclined to think that the torture might have had some basis in a personal vendetta. Markovic wasn't sure he blamed the blond in the slightest, he realised, as his face twisted into an expression of disgust.

He sighed and perched on a slightly blood-stained table by the door; this would take a while.

It did, but eventually three things emerged from the chaos of the man's ramblings.

One – the organisation wasn't hostile to the school: simply curious and wary, which Markovic could live with; two – the man had not been ordered to kill Thanatos, but instead his own obsession had driven him to act and three – the man was well and truly insane, and would be no further use to anyone.

Markovic sighed and picked up a knife. He may as well kill the man. He _could_ leave it to Thanatos, but he didn't particularly want to lose one of his teachers to vengeance. It would be quicker and cleaner if he did it himself.

Well, cleaner might be a slightly moot point, he grudgingly admitted after a glance around the bloody room, but it was the principle of the thing.

"-slut. Rider should have been mine. _Mine._ I never forced him, did I? Alex. I never forced you. I bargained with you. I-"

"What did you say?" asked Markovic, frowning, but the man had broken off into the strange half-snarls, half-sobs that made up the majority of his verbal communication.

But he didn't need it repeated. Rider. Alex.

Alex Rider, where did he know that name from?

He tightened his lips as he remembered. It was almost six years ago now – or maybe just over? He wasn't quite sure. He'd heard of a weak point in MI6 - someone who _obviously_ wouldn't have been properly trained in RTI, because to do so was unthinkable. A teenager, to be precise.

He'd scoffed, then contacted some distinctly not-nice people to get answers. The child was said to have died, along with their agent, at the hands of Gregorovich.

What if, his brain whispered to him. What if that child had escaped, instead? What if, reeling from pain and confusion, the boy had committed murders that would make MI6 turn their backs on him? What if he became an assassin?

And, if he could torture someone as pathetic as this sorry excuse for a man over something that must be minor in comparison, _what would he do if he found the person who had ordered it?_

Markovic swallowed and dropped the knife, striding quickly out of the room. He needed to destroy those files.

In his haste, he didn't notice that the constant low level noise fell quiet, any more than he noticed the door bounce, then slide ajar.

He never noticed. But someone else did.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, any guesses for how this story is going to end, anyone? I've known for way too long, I'm afraid!**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**A/N: Ok, you know what? Next time I complain about English weather on here, ignore me. I bloody love it. I have no idea why, it's miserable outside, but I'm feeling all sorts of warm, affectionate, slightly exasperated, emotions towards it right now. Well, Northern English weather at least. London is still too warm. But anyway, moving on.**_

_**By the way, does anyone like Supernatural? I have half a dozen stories for it that I keep getting ideas for, including a couple of AR/SPN crossovers… what do you think?**_

_**Terms and Conditions: By reading this chapter you are agreeing not to kill, maim or otherwise harm the author of said chapter, no matter how little you like the ending.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

It took barely three steps for horror and panic to transform into anger - Markovic had long ago acknowledged the fact that his own mistakes would make him angrier than almost anything else, and this was one hell of a mistake.

He was still snarling as he barrelled into his office. He couldn't _believe _he had been so gullible! Of all the _stupid_ mistakes! Of course, hire the assassin when _no one_ knows his real name. Bloody _brilliant_, idea that one! He was bloody well _asking_ for trouble. He should have fucking insisted on knowing, not been so blinded by the blond hair and nice arse and the fact that this was _the_ Thanatos.

He growled once, then pulled his runaway emotions back under control, if barely, before he hit something.

After a few more deep breaths than should have been necessary, given his profession, he crossed, calmly, to the filing cabinet.

It wasn't irretrievable, he reminded himself. All he had to do was find the relevant files and destroy them before anyone found them.

He pulled open the draw and began to steadily flick through the files. They were ordered by date, which probably wasn't the most obvious filing system, but allowed Markovic to find things easily, while stopping anyone from finding anything specific.

It also had the handy side effect of allowing him to simply shove the new file in at the front.

He frowned, and studied the date on the file. Three years ago. He was in the wrong draw. He closed his eyes and counted to five, then moved to the right one. He _would_ stay calm.

He pulled open the right draw, and frowned. It was only two thirds full. Still calm, he began to flick through the files. He got to the end and slowly closed the draw.

He counted to five. Then ten. Then twenty.

"Shit!" he screamed, swiping everything from his desk onto the floor with a satisfying crash.

"Fuck!" he swore. This was bad. Really fucking bad. Thanatos was going to kill him.

But then, why hadn't he already?

The thought pulled him up short. Ok. So he had time. Time to prepare and get rid of Thanatos before Thantos got rid of him.

He knew he couldn't take the assassin on himself. The man was a legend, had been for at least three years when he would have been a teenager, for God's sake. But, he'd heard how Wilson had used David against him. He could do the same.

Well, not quite. He didn't want to alienate David. The boy would be a skilled operative, one day, and the school had made him what he was. There was no point in severing that tie just yet.

So who could he use? None of the staff, obviously, and his class would probably not work, with the exception of David.

Christ, the man had been an operative since he was a _kid_ no wonder he had become good at controlling emotional ties.

Markovic frowned. There was something important, he knew. Something that Thanatos had said to him. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and thought, hard.

A child operative. It had something to do with that. Thanatos had… had… had said that he didn't think intelligence agencies would employ a child. Obviously, he knew that this wasn't true. Hell, _Markovic_ should have known it wasn't true, but he had forgotten.

But, if Thanatos had lied to him, for Sarov, then that meant that Sarov was working with Thanatos.

In fact, hadn't _Thanatos_ brought him back to the school? Which meant that this was no doubt bigger than he had thought. Someone was employing the pair of them.

But, if you had Thanatos, why would you need the child? Unless… you didn't trust him. Unless you needed someone to keep an eye on him, to manipulate him.

Unless you needed protection against him wanting to kill you. And who, that Thanatos would happily end if he could, would trust a child to do that?

Shit. They were working for MI6. This just kept getting worse and worse.

Well, they didn't know he knew. He still had time. He just had to get to Sarov before they realised.

-o-O-o-

David scowled and scrubbed out the last line of his essay. He'd come to the classroom to get a bit of peace so he could finish this, but even without his classmates chatting around him, he couldn't concentrate. His own thought kept interrupting him.

He'd finished translating the files about an hour ago; they were still in the bag beside him, in fact. It was why he was still doing an essay that all his classmates had already finished. What the pages had shown him, about Thanatos, about this school, was almost unbelievable. The product of a wild imagination. A story, and only a story. These type of things didn't happen in the real world. Except, apparently, they did.

Denying the plausibility would do no good, he knew. It, like the essay, was just another distraction. He had all the information, and no more reasons to delay. It was time to make up his mind.

He jumped as the door clicked open, interrupting his thoughts. Grateful for the distraction, despite his attempts to get away from them, he turned to the intruder.

"Sir," he said, surprised by the sudden appearance of his teacher. The man looked _pissed_. "Is everything okay?" he asked, cautiously.

"Actually," said Thanatos, his voice not betraying any of the tension in his shoulders or the flinty set of his eyes, "I was hoping I could talk to you."

"About what?" asked David, his heart rate picking up slightly. The assassin hadn't noticed the files missing yet, David reminded himself. There was no reason for him to have noticed now, surely?

"About those files that you took from my desk," replied Thanatos, silkily.

Damn it, thought David, vehemently, resisting the urge to swallow nervously. Did he kill a saint in a previous life, or something? he wondered, ruefully. His luck was certainly bad enough.

"Files, sir?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Don't play dumb with me, kid," snapped the blond, grabbing his collar. "I bloody _invented_ that trick. Now tell me what you did with the files!"

"Sir, I honestly don't know what you're talking about!" exclaimed David, trying to invest his voice with just the right level of confusion and nervousness.

His teacher's eyes narrowed, and he knew it hadn't worked. He contemplated running, but he would have to be let go first, and confessing and hoping for the best, which seemed bloody stupid, but was interrupted by the door banging open. This time, both of them jumped.

It took David only a moment to realise why Markovic hadn't simply opened the door normally – his hands were occupied keeping a gun to Matt's head. David stilled. Something told him this was going to be important.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" said Markovic, his voice low and angry. "You're working for MI fucking 6 and you're letting them manipulate you with a _kid_. It's pathetic."

"MI6?" asked Thanatos, sounding so genuinely shocked that David almost believed him, his own attempts earlier were poor in comparison. He would have been completely taken in, if he didn't know what was in the files. They were all idiots, if it was true. Thanatos wouldn't truly have needed to be manipulated.

Not that the knowledge of his true allegiance made his decision any easier, of course. When was anything ever simple, after all?

"Oh right," snorted Markovic. "Of course. And I guess you don't know about the order I gave either? I guess someone _else_ stole the files? Someone else decided that they _desperately_ needed the information on Alex Rider?"

Thanatos stayed silent, and this time, David knew he was genuinely confused. He'd never translated that file, but he'd now be on edge.

The blond's hand twitched towards the gun that David knew he would have hidden on him, but he stopped at a shout from Markovic.

"Touch your weapon and I swear I'll shoot him," snarled the headmaster. "David, would you disarm him, for me?"

David blinked at being addressed and looked between them. Their eyes were locked on each other in anger, with Matt contorted in an attempt to get as far away from the gun as possible. He wasn't being very successful.

David swallowed, and went to do as his headmaster asked. Three knives were pulled out of sheaths and he found a gun on Thanatos' thigh. He took them all and piled them all on the teachers' desk, well out of the way.

"You'll need the gun," said the headmaster.

"What?" asked David, finally startled into talking.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let go of Sarov just yet. I need you to shoot him, or we're both dead."

David swallowed, and picked the gun back up. Now was decision time, he realised. He was about to betray one side utterly, and prove his loyalty beyond a doubt to the other, no matter what he did. For a moment, he admired the gun. It was sleek and powerful, the barrel lengthened by a silencer.

Once more, he looked at the two men and the boy trapped between them.

He raised the gun and took aim.

"Goodbye, sir," he said, and pulled the trigger.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: I refer you to the terms and conditions that you agreed to by reading this chapter! You cannot kill me! Put the pitchforks down.**_

_**Erm, did I mention I have three potential starts for the next chapter? I'm not sure which I should post yet. Sorry.**_

_**Anyway, tell me what you think? I wrote this on the train on Friday, so it hasn't had as much readjustment as they normally do, but I hope you like it anyway!**_

_**Oddx**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: So, I'm currently sitting in a tidy, clean room and I'm finding it slightly unnerving, because my room is never tidy. And very rarely clean. Well, not this clean, at least.**_

_**It's also why I'm updating so late. Sorry. And why I haven't replied to all of your brilliant reviews. You all I know I really appreciate them, right? I love receiving reviews from you guys. I have lost count of the amount of times that you've made me grin like a loon or laugh out loud because of something you've said. It's amazing that you all have so much belief in my writing ability. So, I guess what I'm really saying is thank you. Thank You for every single word you write.**_

_**Now, onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Matt felt his breath come rushing back to him as Markovic collapsed behind him. Then Thanatos was yanking him forward and checking him for injuries so quickly that he didn't realise it was happening until the assassin sat him at a desk and ruffled his hair.

"You'll be fine," muttered the blond, before turning to David. "Thank you," he said, earnestly. "You did not have to do that."

David shrugged. "Well it was you or him," he said, easily, although Matt noticed a faint tremor in his arms, and he had yet to look at the body.

Apparently, Alex had noticed the same thing and sighed. "Your first kill?" he asked, and David gave a shaky nod.

"Sit down," he instructed. "It will pass soon."

"I… I need to tell you about the files," said David, his eyes growing distant. "I need to-"

"I said sit down," said Alex, not unkindly although David still twitched. Matt wasn't unkind enough to call it a flinch.

"It's important," protested David.

"I know, but you can tell me after you _sit down_."

"Fine," muttered David, although he did not look reluctant as he sank into the chair beside him.

"Now, those files. You broke the code?"

"Obviously," said David, slightly insulted.

"What's in them?"

"Well, the school doesn't just produce operatives," said David. "I know that's what they told you, and the students, but it's more than that. From what I can tell, several of the best every year are asked to infiltrate intelligence agencies, and feed information back to the headmaster. The rest are asked to send any important information back to the school. Any who refuse are killed. That's why they put the trackers in, so that they can find and kill any students who don't cooperate later on."

David shuddered, remembering the account of how a graduating class had been sent to track down an alumni, and killed him without ever realising that that could be them in a few years.

"The headmaster then sells the information on, through other agencies so that no-one realises that this is where it comes from."

Thanatos blinked. "That's big," he said, after a moment.

"There's more," said David. "The school has carefully cultivated its alumni, so that the best in less… alternative subjects go into those fields. They get all the help the school can give to get ahead – including the deaths of those it would be useful to replace. Any technological advances are known here first. We get news of decisions for NATO and the EU and even several governments before the decisions are announced."

"Is there any part of the world they _haven't_ infiltrated?" growled Thanatos in annoyance.

"Not really, sir. But…"

Matt tilted his head to the side. David had poured out bad news about how in control the school really was, and _now_ he was hesitating?

"But what?"

"When the school first opened, it had some trouble infiltrating MI6 – in Britain," said David in a rush. "Apparently the Heads didn't trust anyone at all, and agents only ever knew about their own missions. They still got some information from other agencies about what they were up to, but it wasn't enough."

"And so?"

"And so they decided to capture an agent – one who spent more time with the heads than anyone else – and torture him for information," said David in a rush. "They thought he would be an easy target, and they paid Yassen Gregorovich to do it."

"David," whispered Thanatos. "That agent. It wasn't…"

"I'm sorry, sir!" blurted David. "I wish I hadn't read it. It's none of my business. I-"

"So that's why Markovic thought I would kill him," said Thanatos, casting an eye over to the corpse still lying in the corner. There was something different about him, thought Matt. He didn't know what the two of them were dancing around saying, but he could put it together. He wasn't stupid – he knew Alex Rider had been the original teen agent for MI6 and he guessed that he'd been tortured by someone bad, from David's tone of voice when he said the name, but he didn't want to try and imagine the details.

The thing was, with the assassin's face going emotionless – not as the mask that Matt had become used to, but as if he didn't know what to feel – Matt couldn't help but feel that his chances of getting out of here, of getting _home_ had just dropped.

"I never even thought that someone might be paying the bastard," murmured Thanatos. "I… I should have done. There were other people there, but they never seemed to register."

David frowned, slightly worried, as his teacher continued to talk under his breath.

"Sir? Are you okay?" he asked, rising from his seat. Thanatos ignored him. Gently, he shook the man's shoulder.

When the blonde's head snapped up, he suddenly wished he hadn't. Thanatos' eyes were filled with rage so deep that David didn't know how he wasn't swinging yet.

He got his answer when the man swung around and punched a wall.

"That won't help," snapped Matt. "Whatever happened was years ago, obviously, and right now we're trapped in the middle of a school of _assassins_ and I doubt they're going to be friendly when they realised we just killed their headmaster!"

David glared at him, but had to admit the kid had a point.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked, hoping that the sense of purpose would bring Thanatos back to the present. It may have worked, but at that point, they were interrupted by someone talking over the PA system.

"Alex, can you hear me?" asked the voice, and Alex went rigid. "I know you can. And, well, if you can't – I just get more fun."

"Wilson," snarled Alex, and David stiffened. How had the man pulled this off?

"You have fifteen minutes to find me, Alex. And then I start shooting people, and your class is first in the line of fire, as it were. Starting with this _luscious_ little gem. Where were you hiding him, Alex? Oh, and that's more like fourteen minutes, now, so I'd hurry."

"Matt, contact MI6," snarled Alex, as he crossed the room to gather his weapons. "Tell them to come and get you _now_ and that you've got the information. David, get him the files then make sure he gets to someone who will get him home. The kid's not meant to be a bloody spy."

He didn't wait for the affirmative. By the time David had responded, he had already disappeared down the corridor.

"Come on," muttered David. "We have to get moving."

-o-O-o-

Alex paced himself as he moved through the school. He had about ten minutes left to get there now, but he knew where he was going and it wasn't far away. His class mostly spent their evenings in the senior common room, and however good Wilson was, he wasn't good enough to keep control of the entire class if he tried to move them around the school. As for the 'luscious gem', Alex was trying not to think about it.

He wasn't being very successful.

If Wilson _dared_ to touch one of his class, Alex would quite happily castrate the man. No one deserved that, and whatever else they may be, his class were good kids.

Alex quickened his pace. Wilson _would not_ hurt them.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: Just one more chapter before the epilogue!**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: Sorry I vanished for a couple of weeks. I was having issues with this chapter. If it helps, I will update on Wednesday, because I've already written the next chapter.**_

_**And before I post it, I'm routing my computer through Sweden. So none of you can find out where I live and kill me.**_

-o-O-o-

David peered around the corner then pulled Matt back as the kid made to dash forward.

"Jesus, kid," he growled, quietly. "There's a reason I'm checking what's around the bloody corners, okay?"

Matt blushed slightly and nodded. "Is it safe?" he whispered.

"I don't know," said David. "There are a few staff members there, and I don't know if they are going to be a problem or not."

"Why would they be?" asked Matt, curiously.

"Because they're mostly trained assassins would be a good start," muttered David. "Apart from that? If your SAS buddies have shown up, then the teachers will be looking for any advantage they can possibly get, and taking a kid hostage would be a pretty big advantage."

Matt's expression morphed into shock. "They'd take us _hostage_?" he asked, his voice rising into a nervous hiss.

"You think loyalty means something to them?" asked David, raising an eyebrow. It was an expression he had stolen off Thanatos, but wasn't sure if he could pull it off. Matt seemed suitably impressed, at least. "But no, they'd take _you_ hostage. I imagine they would think it too risky to take the elder years hostage – we know enough to cause them problems, and anyway, we'd be more help actually fighting the soldiers."

"So are we going to chance it?" asked Matt.

"No," said David, shaking his head. "We'll find another way."

-o-O-o-

Aimi kept her death-grip on Ciro's wrist as the boy jerked beside her again. He hadn't taken his eyes off Wilson since the man had come in and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

It was understandable. How could he not be tense, not want to intervene, when his brother was in positioned in front the madman in the middle of the room, knife held almost gently against his throat.

Aimi had never had that type of bond with anyone, but she had, since starting here, made an effort to understand the twins. Not being able to protect Adán would be killing Ciro and, from the smirks he kept shooting them, the bloody figure with the knife had guessed.

But Aimi also knew that, for the moment, there was nothing they could do. Despite the gleam of insanity, and unbelievable physical damage, the man's reflexes were sharp – the way he had rested the knife from Zahur, the slumped unconscious forms of Marsha and Adam and the knife wound in her own hip attested to that. For now, all they could do was wait, and hope that Thanatos was the man they had thought he was.

-o-O-o-

David drew Matt closer to him as he heard gun fire. There was no doubt that the SAS had now arrived – there was no other reason for the mechanic rattle of machine guns to be within the building. Quickly, he propelled them both forward towards where the noise had come from. If he could palm the kid off on the SAS, he could consider his job done and get the hell out of dodge.

He glanced around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. Apart from a few motionless bodies – which he avoided looking at too closely in case he recognised them – there were only soldiers left there.

"Come on," he whispered, tugging his charge forward. "It's your friends."

He was about to push Matt forward, when he saw one of the soldiers raise his gun.

"DUCK!" he screamed, pushing Matt into a crouch, the bullets almost grazing the top of his head.

"Run," he hissed, and as one the two of them sprang up and forward, diving back towards cover as if their lives depended on it. Which, David reminded himself with a caustic smile, it did.

-o-O-o-

Alex kicked the door in.

He ignored Wilson's delighted, insane grin and scanned the room, taking in the slumped figures along one wall and an angry, bitter Zahur looking thoroughly beaten down – a far cry from the lad's usual easy grin and flashing, ever-present knives.

On the other side, Irryn was huddled against the wall, behind Aimi and Ciro. The blood still seeping own Aimi's leg, and her face made pale from blood loss gave him cause to worry, although not as much as the unfettered rage in Ciro's eyes that would leave no room for rational thought.

And the reason for that had been clear from the moment he had entered the room: Adán, pulled nearly into Wilson's lap, a knife against his throat. With his shirt unbuttoned, hands bound with his own tie and his face white with fear, he looked every inch a frightened school boy and Alex was once again reminded how bloody young they all were.

A growl rose out of his throat as Wilson's bloody remains of an arm slipped an inch lower on Adán's abdomen, caressing the muscles in a way that made Alex's blood boil, dipping into the waistline of Adán's, thankfully still fastened, trousers.

"Let them go," said Alex, finally meeting the animalistic stare that had been focused on him since he came in.

"Now why would I do that?" asked Wilson, painfully levering himself, and Adán, upright. "You _tortured_ me, Alex. There's no way I could win against you, now."

"What do you want?" asked Alex.

"What do you _think_ I want?"

"If you want revenge then this is a very stupid way to go about it," said Alex, calmly. "There are assassins all over the place who will shoot you on sight – and those guns you hear? That's the SAS. I'm sure Jones is itching to get her hands on you still after you killed so many of their agents."

Alex carefully pushed back the thought that no-one sane would have done this. Wilson shouldn't even have been able to move with the injuries he had, but he was so focused on his purpose that he could ignore them. Alex hated it when his enemies showed the same amount of persistence as he did.

"I don't know. I have a room full of hostages. Are you really going to risk their lives?"

"You have a room full of very angry junior assassins, who have been trained by _me_ and you think you're at an advantage?" asked Alex, calmly.

Wilson looked around, then at the boy still trapped in his arms.

"Over confidence gets you killed," murmured Alex, as if he was speaking to himself, but his eyes were fixed on Adán's. He hoped the boy would take the message. "Or at least so fucked up that you need reconstructive surgery."

Wilson snarled and lunged forward, forgetting about Adán right in front him in his rage. Adán kicked out at a leg and both went tumbling to the floor.

And then Alex was on them, dragging Adán away and levering the knife out of Wilson's hand.

A sharp crack and sharper scream let him know he'd broken something and he wasted no time in pulling back to slam a foot down on the man's knee.

This time, the scream was a howl and Alex pulled away. He spared a glance to check on Adán, already sheltered in his brother's arms, then turned back to the man collapsed on the floor.

He picked up the knife from where it lay abandoned on the floor, and flipped it so that handle landed casually in his hand.

In one smooth movement, he stepped forward, and drove the blade up through the bottom of Wilson's jaw.

-o-O-o-

_**Another update coming soon. In the meantime, REVIEW!**_

_**Love from Oddx**_


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N: YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO KILL ME. MURDER IS ILLEGAL IN ALL COUNTRIES. **_**ESPECIALLY **_**MINE. (No, I'm not telling you which it is.)**_

_**Please bear the above statement in mind when reading the chapter below. By reading the chapter, you are agreeing to abide by the laws of my country in terms of not killing (relatively) innocent authors.**_

_**In more pleasant news, some new characters are introduced! All credit for inspiration shall be given in the epilogue. :)**_

-o-O-o-

He held Wilson's eyes as the man choked once, then twice, on his own blood and went limp. He pulled it out with the crunch of shifting bone and wiped the blade clean on the man's trousers.

He wiped his own hands off on his already-bloody shirt and jerked his head at Zahur. "This is yours?" he asked, offering up the knife.

Zahur nodded and came forward to take it from him.

"Aimi, get over here," said Alex.

"Sir?" asked Aimi, slipping into a semi-military stance in front of him.

"I need you to get the class out of the school," he said, briskly. "I wasn't kidding about the SAS and I'm sure MI6 would be thrilled to have you all under their thumb. Who's not here?"

"Doc – that's Nakamura, sir – Sasha, Madrid and David."

"Get them, and get yourselves out of here. You'll stand a better chance if you stick together."

Aimi looked as if she disagreed and Alex ruthlessly cut across her.

"Trust me. When this place goes down – and it will – MI6 is going to get _far_ more influence. It's not going to be a good time to be an assassin – even a fledgling one. More fighters is never a bad thing, and you all have different skills. Madrid may be a crappy assassin, but from what I hear he'll make an excellent thief, given half a chance. Irryn will be able to crack any computer you need her to and Nakamura is the best in the school at medical stuff. If you give yourselves half a chance at becoming a team, you may all still be standing in a year – instead of languishing in forgotten cells underneath MI6."

Aimi hesitated then nodded. "Zahur, grab Adam. He won't wake up for a while. Irryn, get a-hold of Doc and Sash, I'll get Madrid and David-"

"Leave David," said Alex, curtly, voicing a decision he wasn't even sure he had made. "I want him to come with me."

"Figures," muttered Aimi with a faint smirk, "We're moving to the West field. They must be there in fifteen minutes. Ciro, keep your brother with us. Irryn, once you're done with phone calls, I need you to get Marsha moving. He didn't hit her as hard as Adam – she'll be awake soon."

"You could come with us, sir," said Aimi, as the others began to move. Ciro, it seemed, had managed to drag his attention away from his brother long enough to call Madrid on his behalf.

"I'd only put you in more danger," said Alex. "You're better off without any teachers from this place – at least until their trail goes cold."

Aimi nodded once and moved off after her class.

If they could get out of the school grounds, they would be fine.

-o-O-o-

The corridors were eerily quiet. Normally bustling with students or teachers, the empty space was a sign more telling even than the gunshots that something was wrong. Alex ducked into an alcove to think for a minute.

He had found the necessary information and given it to MI6. He'd stopped Wilson and made sure that his class would be safe. David would have, by now, he hoped, returned Matt to the SAS.

All he needed now was to grab David, make sure he hadn't been captured, and get out of the death trap the school was rapidly becoming.

Idly he wondered if it had been a mistake to send plans of the school in that first information burst, but he knew they would have become suspicious without any communication from him. And it might, eventually, even buy him some good will in the upper echelons of the organisation. God knows he would need to get on Jones' good side to ever get away cleanly.

His hands flitted briefly over his weapons to make sure he still had them, even though he did not intend to use them if he could help it, then he started forward again.

-o-O-o-

"Keep _down_," hissed David. What had seemed a fairly straight forward an hour ago, was quickly becoming an impossible task. At this rate, Matt's allies were even more likely to gun him down than his enemies most of who, at least, didn't realise he was their enemy.

"But I recognise them from training," mumbled Matt.

"Just because you recognise them doesn't mean they will recognise _you!"_ snapped David, irritably. "Jesus, I've half a mind to cut you lose and let you get yourself killed."

Matt paled. "You wouldn't do that, would you?" he asked, desperately.

David gave him a sour look. "Luckily for you, I told Thanatos that I'd keep you safe. Though why _he _cares, I don't pretend to know."

Matt sagged slightly with relief, and the gun fire ahead of them finally stopped.

"Come on," muttered David, sneaking forward.

He knew there wouldn't be much room for manoeuvring up ahead, but if his guess was right, the soldiers were positioned at a point where three corridors crossed. It made tactical sense, as they could set up a position that would allow them to keep an eye on three of the main routes through the school, and cover their retreat should they need it, given it was only one short corridor to one exit from the school, one that would allow a helicopter to land directly outside it. Somehow, David thought the soldiers might have got their hands on the floor plan of the school. He only hoped that Thanatos had had the sense to leave off an escape route for them to use. Given the thoroughly confusing loyalties of the assassin, David wasn't going to count on it.

"Don't shoot!" he called, then took a deep breath before cautiously moving forward.

Given that he didn't immediately get peppered with bullets, he was going to take that as a win. Finally, in full sight, he looked at the soldiers. A few desks had been dragged out of the neighbouring classrooms and overturned to supply the appearance of cover, but otherwise it was woefully inadequate.

On the other hand, they did all have body armour and machine guns.

"You're looking for a kid, right?" he asked. "Pale, blue-eyed, chestnut hair? Maybe, five-four, five-five?"

"Why, have you seen him?" asked a gruff voice.

"I might have. You let me pass by you without filling me full of bullets and I'll tell you where he is," bargained David.

"Why should we trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't," said David. "But hell, if I don't tell you, you've not lost anything. I'm one unimportant kid who you don't really want to kill. You don't have any orders to capture or kill me, because I'm not important enough, and I'm unarmed."

He paused to let the sense of his words sink in, hoping that they hadn't had blanket instructions to capture the students.

"So, are you going to let me by?"

-o-O-o-

Alex heard David's desperate bargain. The kid wasn't stupid. Unfortunately he didn't know MI6. The soldiers would have been told to capture as many students as possible – MI6 were hardly the type to let a potential advantage slip through their hands – but he had stopped them shooting him immediately and kept Matt safe.

But he didn't show himself. All it would take was one trigger-happy soldier and all three of them would be dead before he could do anything about it. Given the fact that the soldiers were in a school full of assassins, he doubted they would be anything other than on-edge.

"Give us the kid, and you have my word that you won't be harmed," said the soldier who had spoken.

"That's not exactly what I asked, is it?" said David. He was hiding his nerves well, but Alex could still hear the tension in his voice. "I have no desire to languish in a cell under MI6, or given a new identity and left to live as a nobody under the ever-watchful eye of the British government."

Matt had finally seen him, Alex noticed. The kid was sat, biting his lip, in the corridor directly across from him. Thankfully, he had so far had the sense to stay put.

"We could shoot you where you stand and find the kid ourselves."

"No!"

-o-O-o-

David flung himself to the ground as Matt came running out, only able to watch as the nervous soldiers acted exactly as they had been trained and started shooting.

He turned, horrified, in time to see Thanatos fling himself out of the corridor and cover Matt, bearing both of them to the ground.

"No!" he screamed, and one of the soldier's finally took notice.

"Wait, shit! That's the fucking kid you're shooting at!"

The gun fire ceased.

David scrambled forward. Thanatos was obviously winded from the fall. Otherwise he'd be up and moving by now. Maybe he had been knocked unconscious? He should have gotten _up_ by now.

One of the soldier's had pulled Matt up and away, by the time David reached Thanatos and began shaking him.

"Sir, you need to get up," hissed David, desperately. No head injury, he noted. And his shirt was covered in blood.

"No, no," he mumbled. It couldn't be his blood. He'd just invested his _life_ in this man.

He pulled open the shirt and froze. Two bullets were embedded in his torso.

"No," he muttered, grabbing the shirt and pressing it to the wound.

"You have to _do _something," said a hysterical voice in the background, but David wasn't listening. He had to keep the shirt there because the wounds would bleed otherwise, because they _had _to because he wasn't dead because he _couldn't_ be dead because David couldn't get out of this on his own.

A hand on his shoulder tugged him back.

"_No_! Let me _go_!" he shouted, pulling against the hands, but an arm wrapped around his chest.

He threw his head back and felt it connect.

"Shit, Cougar, give me a hand here."

David kicked out and the soldier holding him cursed as he was left with David's full weight to contend with.

"He's _dead_, kid. Let it go."

David yelled, then something hard connected with the side of his head. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was Thanatos' unnaturally still form.

-o-O-o-

_**I really, really feel like I should say something here, but to be honest. I don't feel good about this ending. In fact, I'm feeling fairly guilty. Err… Anyway, review – even if it's just to yell at me?**_


	24. Epilogue

_**A/N: I finished writing this all of five minutes ago, so be happy!**_

_**By the way, anyone who likes Supernatural, there is a poll on my profile concerning which fic from that verse I should post first. Go and vote!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Mrs Jones leaned back from the files on her desk as Matthew entered. A twitch of her fingers covered up the sensitive information and she turned towards the boy. For a moment, she couldn't help but remember Alex's first debriefing, back when he had been Alex and not one of the ridiculous pseudonyms he had later surrounded himself in. Exhausted, injured and mentally reeling, he had still shown more fire than Matthew. She sighed and pursed her lips slightly as Matthew glanced around the room before slinking into the chair. He looked nervous and on edge, glancing around the room before taking his seat.

"Matt," she said with a small smile that reached her eyes after long years of practice. "There's no need to be nervous; this is just a standard debrief."

"Of course, Mrs Jones," said Matt, sitting up straighter in his chair. "What would you like to know?"

Mrs Jones patiently led him through his infiltration into the school, receiving the information from Alex to send back to them, running into the assassin in the headmaster's office and Matt's growing doubt about his reliability, until Wilson showed up and Alex and that kid in the cells, between them, saved his life.

"You haven't mentioned when Wilson came to the school," said Mrs Jones, "Or what happened to him."

"I don't know," said Matt, truthfully. "I didn't even know he was there until he started calling for Than- Alex over the PA system."

"So you don't know what happened to him?" asked Mrs Jones, making a note on her pad. She was fairly sure Alex had killed the man, judging from the body found by the soldiers, but secondary confirmation never hurt anyone.

"Sorry," said Matt, staring at his knees.

"And what about Rider? What happened to him?"

Somehow, Matt managed to go a shade paler and glanced up at her before quickly looking away again.

"I- Well, he went off to deal with Wilson," said Matt. "He told David to get me safely to the SAS soldiers, with the files. I-"

He took a deep breath and a shudder passed through his slight frame. "We ran. We didn't know who to trust – the teachers would turn on us if the knew the truth, but the soldiers could start shooting without ever realising it was a kid, if we surprised them."

"David… He found a group of soldiers in an open area. He spoke to them to warn them and walked out. He said he'd trade me for his safety, which I guess was fair enough. But… they threatened to shoot him. I- I panicked. He'd helped me so much, and I didn't want him to die. I ran out, but the soldiers started shooting – they didn't realise it was me."

Matt paused and swallowed, his nerves increasing.

"I don't know where he came from. He must have been out of sight in one of the other corridors. I didn't see him! But then, Thanatos was there, shielding me from the bullets. He threw himself on top of me… I- I could feel him _jerking_ as they hit him. I thought he must have a vest on – why wouldn't he? Why would he give his life to protect _me_ of all people? I'd just been a hindrance to him. I- But… David… the soldiers… He."

"He died," said Matt, dully, after yet another pause, and suddenly the emotions slammed into place in Mrs Jones' mind. Not nerves, _guilt_. He felt guilty for getting Alex killed.

Perhaps, she mused, it was better this way. He wasn't a spy, she could see that now. He was inventive under pressure – that was what had drawn them to him in the first place – but he lacked the curiousity of a good spy. He thought too much of survival, and not enough of the mission.

A clean break. He would be only too happy to see the back of them, she was sure, and this way there would be no lose ends that he would feel compelled to tie up.

"Thank you, Matt," she said, with a nod. "I believe your father is waiting outside for you."

Matt nodded silently and rose, his face still pale and drawn.

"I… I don't think I want any more missions," he said. "I mean, I want to keep my dad safe – you said using me as cover did that, right? – but, I don't want any without him."

"As you wish," said Mrs Jones, and the boy left.

She sat for a moment, fingertips stroking idly over the lid of her pen, before she firmly folded them into her palms and rested both hands on the desk in front of her, before reaching out to press the intercom button.

"William? Please ask Crawley to come and see me?"

As usual, her PA was efficient, and she barely had to wait five minutes for the greying agent to enter her office.

"Tell the search teams to narrow their search area," she said. "Rider was injured, severely. He could not have been moved far and could not have been alone."

Crawley nodded once, then quietly exited, leaving Mrs Jones alone with her thoughts.

No matter what Matt thought, she knew Alex was alive. Now, she just had to decide whether this was a good thing… or not.

_The End_

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, first of all, a massive thank you to Clouds, who has been my sounding board for this story, and Kusi, who has generally not let me give up on writing (it was closer than I care to admit at some points) and my boyfriend for bitching at me when I left you on a cliff-hanger.**_

_**Credit to Indigo Colored Rain for Madrid, Wolfern for Irryn and Adam, Hechu for Zahur and Kusi for 'Doc' Nakamura. All of these characters shall be expanded on in the sequel.**_

_**Yes… I just said SEQUEL. You didn't think I was going to leave Wolf and Alex without making them work out at least **_**some**_** of their issues, did you?**_

_**Keep an eye out for Retribution, coming soon! (…ish.)**_

_**In the meantime, review and tell me what you thought of the story? Given the amount of angry/appalled reviews I received for the previous chapter, you must all love this one, right?**_

… _**right? :S**_

_**I shall write to you all soon!**_

_**Oddx**_


	25. AN: Sequel!

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm just posting this to let you know that the long awaited SEQUEL is up! You can find Retribution on my profile!

Enjoy!

Oddx


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